Chapter Twenty-Two

Southerners

I

sleen and Alaric hadn’t been up long. They’d been given a room to share in the Eyrie, but neither of them had had the time to settle in properly yet.

Not long after dawn, Isleen woke up and to her surprise she found Alaric already up and dressed, sitting at the small desk over by the wall. The pudgy storyteller was usually a heavy sleeper; he’d never gotten up before her.

Isleen sat up in bed. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

Alaric looked over at her. ‘Oh. Good morning. Yes, I’m fine.’

Isleen, though, noticed how pale he looked. ‘Did you sleep at all?’

‘Not much,’ Alaric admitted. ‘I’m not used to having a proper bed yet. Anyway... I had things on my mind.’

‘I know the feeling,’ Isleen smiled and got out of bed. ‘Well, we’ll both have some time to rest before—,’ she froze, and her smile vanished.

‘What is it?’ said Alaric.

Isleen looked past him. ‘Captain,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

Alaric turned to look, and started violently when he saw Red standing in the doorway.

Red stood very still – unnaturally still. Both of them had noticed how deliberately he moved nowadays, never twitching or glancing around like an ordinary person. But his voice was its usual rough, damaged self.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked.

Isleen frowned. ‘Yes, we’re fine. Why? You look...’ she trailed off, unable to find a way to finish without offending him.

‘Awful, I know,’ said Red, who actually did look worse than usual. His eyes were red-rimmed and his hair tousled – he looked as if he hadn’t slept all night. Maybe he hadn’t. ‘Nothin’ happened last night?’ he persisted.

‘Not that we noticed,’ said Isleen. ‘Why do you ask?’

Red looked at her, then at Alaric, then shook his head and left without another word.

‘What was that all about?’ Isleen asked once he’d gone.

Alaric kept his gaze on the doorway where Red had stood. ‘He looked so frightened. Did you notice?’

‘No,’ said Isleen. ‘But I believe you. What’s happened? I would ask him, but I don’t think he would tell me.’

‘He wouldn’t.’ Alaric looked back at her, his own expression troubled. ‘He’s suffering, you know. He never says anything, but I can tell. It’s written all over his face.’

‘I know,’ said Isleen. She shivered. ‘I wish there was something we could do for him.’

‘So do I,’ said Alaric. He rubbed his eyes. ‘I can’t imagine how horrible it must be to be him. But he saved my life, and by Gryphus I’ll follow him to the ends of the earth if I have to.’

Isleen smiled, making him blush. ‘That sounds like something Alaric the Dashing might say! What were you doing all night, anyway? Writing?’

Alaric sighed. ‘I tried. But I couldn’t do it.’

‘Never mind,’ said Isleen. ‘Try again later. I’m sure—,’

‘No,’ said Alaric. ‘You don’t understand. I was up all night. I haven’t slept since yesterday. I was here at this desk while you were asleep, trying and trying... it’s never been like this. I can’t do it any more, Isleen. It’s just gone.’

‘Oh.’ Isleen came over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Alaric. It’ll be fine. Try again when you feel ready.’

Alaric shook his head. ‘The Captain was right. None of it’s real. I’ve been thinking about that too. Every time I tried to write something, I remembered... no. He was right. I can’t keep trying to hide away in a fantasy world. It’s time to face what’s real.’ He drew himself up to his full, unimpressive height. ‘So I’m quitting. No more stories. No more pretending. No more Alaric the Dashing. I’m sorry,’ he added.

Isleen stared at him in surprise. ‘Do you really mean that?’

‘Yes,’ said Alaric. ‘In fact...’

He twisted around in his chair to face the desk again. There was an open book on it, its pages blank. Alaric grabbed a reed pen, dipped it in the inkpot, and scrawled some words across the page. His handwriting was clumsy and careless, and he didn’t bother to try and keep it straight on the page.

“...Alaric the Dashing could feel the cold spreading in his body. The dagger stuck in his back was like a spear of agony. ‘Morgan’ he proclaimed, ‘how could you betray me?’

‘Because ye are a Southerner, Alaric,’ Morgan announced. ‘Now die like the scum ye are.’

And then Alaric died, and his soul went away into the void where the Night God waited.”

Alaric scrawled out the last few words, hesitated, and then added THE END before throwing the pen aside.

‘There,’ he said. ‘It’s done. Alaric the Dashing is dead. Now it’ll just have to be Alaric the fat coward.’

Isleen had never heard him sound so angry or bitter. In fact, she had never seen him angry at all, not even during the worst humiliations they had had to endure in Amoran. ‘Alaric!’ she exclaimed.

Alaric, though, grinned. ‘Excuse me. I have to go and find the Captain. I’ve got something to ask him.’

*

Red searched the tower, checking every room he had seen in his dream. But he didn’t find anything. Everyone was fine, and his fear started to recede.

Just a dream.

But the knowledge that it hadn’t really happened didn’t do much to make him feel better. He headed for the dining hall to find some food, not really noticing anything around him, and remembered something his father had once told him.

‘If you can dream it, you can do it.’

Red shuddered.

Would it always be like this? Was this what it was like to be the Shadow That Walked? Utterly alone, always able to feel the icy coldness where a heartbeat should be, with dreams of murder to torment him every night?

And what if it wasn’t just dreaming? What if he lost control and started to act on the fantasies that had visited him? Or what if he sleepwalked?

What if one day he woke up and found that he really had done the things he had dreamt of doing?

Red reached the dining hall, and found that food had been laid out on the table for people to help themselves. He sat down at the first chair he found, and grabbed a small loaf of bread and some fried fish. He ate them without really tasting them, all the while struggling with his fears.

He’d vowed to use his powers to do what was right, but he knew, in a way that went deeper than any normal knowledge, that they could make a monster of him as well – if they hadn’t already.

All right, he thought. So what’m I gonna do about it?

There had to be an answer. But what?

He was so deep in thought that it took him quite a while to realise that someone was speaking.

‘Eh?’ he said, turning his head to look. ‘Oh,’ he said, seeing who it was. ‘It’s you.’

Alaric coughed. ‘Yes, excuse me, but—,’

‘But what?’ Red asked brusquely. ‘Out with it.’

‘Er,’ Alaric shuffled his feet. ‘I wanted to ask you for something.’

‘Which is?’ said Red.

‘I want you to teach me how to fight,’ said Alaric.

Red gave him a blank look. ‘You what?’

‘Yes,’ said Alaric, more firmly. ‘If there’s going to be a war, I want to help.’

‘Why d’you need me to teach you, then?’ asked Red.

‘Because you know how to fight,’ said Alaric. ‘And Isleen told me you were a Sergeant in the guards back in Liranwee, and sergeants help train new recruits, so you know how to teach.’

‘Neth was a Sergeant too,’ said Red. ‘An’ one of the other lads as well.’

‘Maybe,’ said Alaric. ‘But you’re the only one I trust. You’re the only one here apart from Isleen who gives me any respect at all.’

Red looked at him in surprise.

‘I know everyone thinks I’m useless,’ Alaric added. ‘Even you probably think it. But I don’t want to be useless. I need to learn how to do something other than write legal documents and stupid stories.’

‘“Stupid”?’ Red repeated.

‘Yes,’ said Alaric. ‘You were right, Captain. It’s all nonsense. So will you teach me? I would consider it an honour.’

Red couldn’t help but smile at the little man’s earnest tone. ‘All right,’ he said. ‘I’ll give it a try. When I get back.’

Alaric beamed. ‘Thank you!’

‘An’ while I’m gone,’ Red added, ‘find a stick or somethin’ and practise with it. Or just practise with your hands. Can you throw a punch?’

‘I think so,’ said Alaric.

‘All right, show me,’ said Red. He held out a hand, palm forward. ‘Punch my hand.’

Alaric scowled determinedly, and punched Red’s palm as hard as he could.

Red chuckled. ‘You never got into a bar fight in yer life, did you?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Well, let an old pro show you how it’s done,’ said Red. ‘First... keep your wrist straight, like this. And don’t tuck your thumb under yer fingers – you’ll break it. Don’t curl your fingers in so hard – keep ’em loose. Yeah, like that. And swing from the shoulder. Don’t just use the fist. Use your whole body. Pretend like you want to punch through whatever it is. Now go on, try again.’

Alaric did. With Red’s encouragement, he tried several more times until he’d gotten the hang of it.

‘All right,’ said Red. ‘Practise that while I’m gone. But remember...’

‘Yes?’ the pudgy storyteller was listening keenly.

‘When you get right down to it, fighting’s all about hurtin’ the other bugger worse than he hurts you,’ said Red. ‘An’ that’s not a joke. Most people don’t really want to hurt anyone, or get hurt. If you’re the meaner one, you’ll probably win.’

‘I doubt that will ever happen,’ Alaric said cheerfully. ‘Thank you, Captain.’

‘I ain’t a Captain any more,’ said Red. ‘Just call me Red.’

‘All right, then. Thank you, Red.’

‘No problem.’ Red stood up. ‘Now I’d better get goin’. There’s work to do.’

*

Red went back to his own room, and found Kraego idly dozing in his nest next door. Even though Red walked silently now, the giant griffin still looked up when he entered.

‘There you are. Where did you go?’

‘I just—,’ Red began, and stopped. If he couldn’t confide in his partner, who could he confide in? ‘I had a nightmare,’ he said.

‘Yes?’ said Kraego.

‘I dreamt that everyone was dead,’ said Red. ‘An’ I’d killed them. It was so real... I had to see if everyone was all right.’

Kraego’s tail swished. ‘I would say that it was only a dream,’ he rasped. ‘But after I spoke to the Night God in my own dreams, I learnt to know better.’

Red’s stomach lurched. ‘D’you think it could come true, Kraego?’

‘Not if you have the strength to stop it,’ said Kraego.

‘But what if I don’t?’ asked Red.

‘Then there will be nothing either of us can do,’ said Kraego.

‘No...’ Red went over to the bed and retrieved the short sword he had taken from the armoury. He stuffed it into his belt. ‘If it turns out I can’t control it, then I’m leaving. I’ll get out of the country, go somewhere far away where there’s nobody else. No-one I can hurt.’

‘It will not happen,’ Kraego insisted. ‘Enough of this. We have things we must do.’

‘Yeah,’ said Red. ‘We do, don’t we?’

‘Come, then,’ said Kraego. ‘We will use the shadows. Have you thought of a plan of what to do when we reach Liranwee?’

Red opened his mouth to say no, but then closed it again. The dream came back to him, and for a moment he just stood there, seeing it all in his mind. The circle of figures, all bloodstained and dead eyed, and himself standing among them. Odd to think that someone like Liantha would have been terrified to see them, but someone like Teressa would probably have knelt and called herself unworthy. But, of course, Northerners saw it differently, didn’t they?

‘Yeah...’ Red said slowly. ‘Yeah... I think I have.’

––––––––

Chapter Twenty-Three

Recruitment

R

anulf Ranulfson, former sergeant in Liranwee’s city guard, sat in the White Serpent and downed another mug of his favourite beer. There was already another one standing by, and he pulled it towards himself and sipped it more slowly. He’d had too much already, but he didn’t give a damn. There wasn’t anything left to do nowadays but drink.

Ranulf hadn’t taken that much pride in his work, not like some. Guarding had just been a job, and mostly it was boring. But right now, he would have given anything to be out on patrol, walking unhurriedly through the streets of Liranwee with his old partner. Nowadays, he would give anything to be bored again.

But all of that was over now.

Liranwee had been taken. Overrun. The Northerners had come, thousands of them, with the army of griffins called the Unpartnered. The griffins had dropped firebombs and broken the gates down to let the Northerners in. Liranwee never stood a chance.

Not that they’d destroyed the city. A good part of it had burned down, and afterwards the Northerners had run wild through the streets, looting and killing.

But they hadn’t destroyed everything. They’d installed a new council and Eyrie Master, and now the King of the North, Caedmon Taranisäii, had come to live in the Liranwee Eyrie. They’d rebuilt what they’d destroyed, or most of it, and they kept law and order in the city just as Lady Isleen had done. The members of the guard had been allowed to keep their jobs, if they agreed to answer to their new, Northerner, commander.

Ranulf, though, had quit his job along with many others, and now... nothing left to do but sit in the White Serpent and think about how things could have been. And miss people.

Funny to think of, really. Nobody really thought he cared that much about his job, not even him. His old patrolling partner, Red, used to leave him in the dust, always rushing off to volunteer for extra work, always taking it all so seriously...

Ranulf grimaced to himself at the thought of his old friend. Nowadays, of course, Red was just another person who was gone forever. He’d been the first to go, really.

Nobody ever would’ve expected someone like Red to be a traitor. Never. Not even when you knew that he had traitors in his family, what with his uncle being Branton Redguard, who’d betrayed his home city to a Northerner, and his father Danthirk having been killed for treason.

Red just wasn’t the sort to go that way, never.

Ranulf downed another drink, and waved at the barman to bring him another one.

He didn’t know what he believed any more. Traitor or not, Red had tried to warn him and he should have listened. Everyone should have listened. But they hadn’t, and now they were paying the price.

Anyway, it wasn’t like they didn’t have plenty of other traitors in the city now. Even in the guard.

Ranulf growled to himself and snatched his next drink as it arrived. The guard as he’d known it didn’t exist any more, and never would again. Not while it was being commanded by those Northern usurpers. And with the King himself living in Liranwee, there was no chance for anyone to fight back.

Anyone who attacked a Northerner went to prison. If they were judged to be a rebel, they’d be collared and sent to Amoran, never to be seen again. Bad enough that the Northerners were doing it, but with the guard under their control, now they were making Liranwee’s citizens do it to each other.

People had been given rewards for ratting out their friends and neighbours, and plenty of them were willing to do it, too. Even Commander Talmon had been locked up for refusing to co-operate with the takeover of the guard.

Ranulf’s head was spinning. He’d drunk too much.

He started on his next drink anyway. One for the road and then he’d go home and sleep it off. He’d have to be this drunk to get any sleep there; his old home had been his bunk in the guard barracks, but since he’d quit the only home he had was a stall in an abandoned stable. Or, when that was taken, a handy doorway.

‘Hey, Ranulf.’

Ranulf looked up unsteadily. ‘What?’ he began, and scowled when he saw the guard uniform. ‘Oh, it’s you. Sod off, you.’

Young Elthan, though, sat down opposite him. ‘Thought I’d find you here,’ he said.

‘An’ I thought you’d be busy off kissin’ the new Commander’s arse,’ said Ranulf.

‘You ain’t still bitter, are yer?’ said Elthan. ‘I just made the best of a bad situation. What about you? Still sleepin’ in the gutter, then?’

Ranulf only muttered something and swallowed the last of his drink. ‘I ain’t drunk enough for this. Get me another one or sod off.’

‘Y’look like you already had plenty,’ said Elthan. ‘But I’m here to celebrate, so all right.’

Ranulf thumped the empty mug down on the bench. ‘Why, what’s happened now? You throw another one of our old lads in prison for sayin’ our city’s been stolen out from under us?’

‘No, I just got promoted,’ said Elthan. ‘An’ you’d better keep that mouth shut, Ranulf, or you really will get arrested.’

‘At least prison’s got a roof over yer head,’ said Ranulf.

‘Nothing t’drink, though,’ said Elthan. ‘Oi, you! Bring us two pints!’ he waved at the nearest barmaid. When the drinks arrived, he shoved one over to Ranulf. ‘This one’s on me,’ he said. ‘D’you even have any money to pay for the ones you’ve already drunk?’

Ranulf grunted and fished in his pocket for something which he dumped on the table between them.

It was a gold medal, still shiny. A broken, grubby griffin’s feather hung next to it on the string.

Elthan touched it. ‘Is this Red’s medal?’

‘Yeah,’ said Ranulf.

‘What, you ain’t gonna trade this for beer are you?’

‘Why not?’ said Ranulf. ‘That’s real gold. It’s gotta be worth a few pints.’

Elthan frowned and picked up the medal, rubbing his fingertips over the writing engraved on it. ‘You got one too, right? Have y’still got it, or did you already drink it?’

Ranulf grunted again and picked up his mug.

‘You sure you really wanna sell this?’ Elthan persisted. ‘I mean, we all know what Red did, but it’s still a piece of the old days.’

‘Who cares?’ said Ranulf. ‘I don’t want it no more. Keep it if yer want an’ sell it yerself.’

Elthan put it down on the bench. ‘All right, but I dunno who’d buy it.’

‘I’ll take it,’ said someone sitting to his left.

Both of them looked up.

‘Were you listenin’ in on us?’ Elthan said sharply.

‘Yeah.’ The speaker was wearing a hood, and he didn’t look up at either of them. ‘I got good hearin’. But I’ll take that medal if you don’t want it.’

‘Oh yeah? What’ll you give us?’

‘Information,’ said the stranger.

Ranulf squinted at him. ‘Who are yer, anyway? An’ what information?’

The stranger shushed him. ‘I’ve been watchin’. You don’t look so happy about the situation here. Can’t blame you, either. So if you want a chance t’do somethin’ about it, I can help.’

‘That’s dangerous talk nowadays, stranger,’ said Elthan. ‘An’ I’m gonna ask you to show us your face before we listen to you any more.’

‘Why, so you can arrest me again?’ said the stranger.

‘Again?’ Elthan gave him a suspicious look.

Ranulf started to get irritated. ‘Look, take the damn hood off or sod off.’

‘Fine, but keep quiet,’ said the stranger. His voice was low and raspy. ‘Or I’ll disappear an’ there won’t be any more chances for either of you. I’m gonna try and help the pair of you just one last time, an’ if you don’t take it this time that’s the last time, understood?’

‘Fine, whatever,’ said Elthan. ‘Now stop the nonsense an’ get on with it.’

The stranger took his hood off. Underneath he looked like someone who might have been tanned once, but now his skin was sickly pale. His thick red hair and beard had grown out and looked all raggedy and wild. The nose had been broken at some point, and in the bad light of the tavern his eyes were shadows.

Both of them stared at him.

‘Wait,’ said Ranulf. ‘That ain’t...?’

‘It’s me, Red,’ Red growled. ‘Now gimme back my medal, you drunk.’

Ranulf gaped at him as if he’d just fallen out of the sky. ‘Red? Holy gods, but you’re meant t’be...’

‘Dead, I know,’ said Red.

‘We thought you’d died when the city fell,’ said Elthan. ‘Great Gryphus, what’re you doing here? Where’ve you been all this time?’

‘It’s a long story,’ said Red. ‘But I came back here for you. Wasn’t gonna leave my mates stuck here. I thought most of you might be dead already, but looks like you’ve been doin’ all right, Elth.’

‘Yeah, he just got promoted,’ said Ranulf.

‘So I heard,’ said Red. ‘I reckon you won’t be draggin’ me back to prison now, right?’

‘No,’ said Elthan. ‘It was Isleen’s Master of Law what put out that warrant on you, an’ both of them are long gone. For gods’ sakes, Red, what happened to you? You look half dead.’

‘Hah.’ It wasn’t so much a laugh as a cough. ‘Only half? Look, don’t worry about me, I ain’t got time to explain. D’you want to get out of here or not?’

‘Where’d we be going?’ Ranulf asked suspiciously. ‘All the other cities’re taken as well.’

‘Not all of ’em,’ said Red. ‘There’s a place I can take you where the Northerners ain’t been. It’s still free. I’ve got friends there, an’ when the time comes we’re gonna fight back. But first I’m gettin’ people out to join us. Point is, we need you. An’ you need us. Unless you’d rather live like this. Eh, Ranulf? You’d rather sleep in a gutter? An’ you, Elthan? Would you rather be second-class in yer own home? Spend the rest of yer life bein’ spat on by some Northerner what only got put in charge of you ’cause he’s not a Southerner? An’ don’t lie about it. I told you – I’ve been watchin’. I know how it is.’

Elthan frowned. ‘How can we trust you, Red? After what you did? You betrayed all of us.’

Red gave him a look of quiet outrage. ‘You really think I did that? For Gryphus’ sake, Elthan, I was yer friend. I was friends with both of you. An’ then the moment there’s an accusation you just believe it? Did you ever think that badly of me?’

‘Didn’t want to,’ said Ranulf. ‘But if you didn’t do it, who did?’

‘Morgan.’ Red spat the name. ‘Morgan did it. He was the spy. He killed Bear. He framed me. He tricked me an’ took me to his King as a prisoner, an’ then had me beaten around the head to make me talk. D’you know why I showed up here tryin’ to warn everyone about the invasion? It’s because I escaped.’

‘Who’s this Morgan—?’ Ranulf began, but Elthan interrupted. ‘You mean Morgan Taranisäii? That Morgan? The King’s adopted son?’

‘Yeah,’ said Red. ‘You know him?’

‘I saw him,’ said Elthan. ‘He was here. They brought him back here, badly hurt. He almost died.’

‘That’s him,’ said Red. ‘I caught him an’ took him to New Eagleholm, an’ he got out of prison. He almost got hanged by a mob.’

‘That’s what I heard,’ said Elthan. ‘An’ after he got better, he took an army an’ went back there. Destroyed the whole city, they say. But...’ he looked reflectively into his drink. ‘If you say he’s the real spy, I believe you.’

‘C’mon,’ said Ranulf. ‘Why’d the King’s son be out spyin’? Ain’t he a griffiner?’

‘Yeah, he is,’ said Elthan. ‘But... well, we ain’t supposed to know, but I’ve heard the rumours. He’s the King’s chief spy. A master of disguise. It’s said he infiltrated just about every city in the South before the invasion, or trained people to do it for him. I’ll bet you any money you could name that he did it in Liranwee too.

‘An’ then when he realised we were on to him, he pinned the blame on me,’ Red finished. ‘You saw him, Ranulf. That blind beggar man, No-Eyes. That was him. He took off his eye-cloth, an’ underneath... eyes. Black eyes.’ Red gritted his teeth. ‘I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch. I swore I would. I’m gonna kill his King as well, an’ I’m gonna get the Northerners out of our land. Only question left is, are you with me?’

‘Damn right,’ Ranulf said immediately. ‘An’...’ he put his drink down. ‘Red, I’m so sorry. I should’ve... but when I saw that stuff in your chest...’

‘It’s all right,’ said Red. ‘Forget it, mate. It’s in the past now. What about you, Elthan?’

Elthan frowned. ‘I’m sorry too, Red. An’ don’t blame yourself about what happened here. We should’ve listened, but even if we had it would’ve been too late.’

‘All right, but are you comin’?’ asked Red.

‘Where’re we goin’?’ 

‘I’ll tell you once we’re out of the city. Well?’

‘I’ll... think about it.’

‘Oh come on,’ said Ranulf. ‘What’s wrong with you? You in love with your new job or somethin’? You’d rather stay here an’ work for a bunch of Northerners? What kinda Southerner are you anyway?’

‘Yeah, that’s what I’m wonderin’ too,’ said Red. ‘We’re Southerners, remember? An’ we’re guards. We ain’t scholars an’ we ain’t warriors. We’re just guards. An’ what does a guard do? Remember the oath? It’s our job to see justice done. To protect our people. To lay our lives down for our home city, if we have to. But what’s this I’m seein’ here? Some bastard comes in here an’ murders our people an’ steals our city, an’ you’re all right with that? Forget about him bein’ a king – he’s a thief an’ a murderer, an’ so’s his army. He’s a criminal, an’ we’re guards, so who’d be better to bring him to justice? You tell me!’

‘Keep yer voice down!’ Elthan hissed. ‘You want the whole tavern to hear?’

‘I don’t care, so long as you hear,’ said Red. ‘So did you?’

‘Yeah...’ Elthan calmed down and took a throatful of beer.

‘Forget him,’ said Ranulf. ‘He ain’t got the balls. Let’s go, mate. I’m ready. An’... here.’ He offered up the medal.

Red took it, and stuffed it into his pocket with a smile. ‘Thanks, Ranulf.’

Ranulf shrugged. ‘Like you said, it’s yours. So’s this.’ He unbuckled the sword from around his waist and put it on the table.

Red grabbed it. ‘My dad’s sword!’

‘Yeah, they took mine away when I quit,’ said Ranulf. ‘My armour too. But I’d kept yours after you dropped it. It’s a bit rusty, but it’s a decent blade.’

Red grinned and put the sword belt around his waist. ‘Thanks. I was real sad about losin’ it.’

‘Thought so.’ Ranulf drained his beer. ‘Are we goin’ or what?’

‘Yeah.’ Red put his hood back on and stood up.

Elthan stayed where he was, and avoided both their gazes.

Ranulf snorted. ‘Oh, burn him. C’mon, Red.’

Red gave Elthan a last look. ‘You oughta be ashamed.’

With that he slunk out of the tavern with Ranulf close behind, completely ignoring the protests of the unpaid bartender.

Outside, Red and Ranulf fell into step beside each other, as if they were still patrolling together and all the months in-between had never happened.

‘Right,’ said Red. ‘Are you ready now, or d’you need to pick up your stuff before we go?’

Ranulf staggered slightly. ‘Nah, I’m carryin’ all I got left.’

‘How long’ve you been out of a job, anyway?’ asked Red.

‘Ever since the takeover,’ said Ranulf. ‘I quit the moment they said we could stay if we worked under the new Commander. I dunno if Talmon’s even still alive.’

‘He is,’ said Red. ‘Bit knocked about, but he’s alive.’

‘How d’you know all this?’ asked Ranulf.

‘I told you – I’ve been watchin’,’ said Red. ‘Gotten good at it, too.’

‘All right, but how are we gonna get out of the city?’

‘Same way I got in an’ out last time,’ said Red. ‘C’mon an’ I’ll show you.’

Ranulf glanced at his old friend. He’d never been so glad to see anyone, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something odd about Red now. Something different. And it wasn’t just how scruffy he’d gotten – Ranulf wasn’t so neat nowadays either. No, it was something else, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. The voice had changed, definitely; Ranulf didn’t recognise it at all. But it wasn’t just the voice, no, it was something else. Something that frightened him.

The back of Ranulf’s neck prickled. ‘Red, I think someone’s followin’ us.’

‘I know,’ Red said calmly. ‘It’s just Elthan.’ He hadn’t even looked back.

Ranulf glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough...‘What’re you doin’?’ he snapped. ‘Sod off, traitor.’

Elthan hurried to catch up with them. ‘Red, wait!’

Red stopped and turned to face him. He said nothing, and only stood and stared at him.

Elthan fidgeted. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I should’ve... look, I know signin’ up with the Northerners was cowardly. I just didn’t know what else to do. D’you have any idea how crappy I feel? I’ve betrayed my own race, an’ my own city, an’ my friends as well.’

Red stayed silent, and Ranulf found himself doing the same.

‘Look,’ Elthan went on. ‘I want to help. I’ve got a key to the armoury now. I can get you in there to pick up some weapons an’ so forth. Might be able to recruit some more of the lads as well. Just let me do somethin’.’

Red finally spoke. ‘What took you so long?’

Elthan glared at Ranulf. ‘I had to pay off this great lump’s bar tab. Well? Can I come?’

‘Sure you can,’ said Red. ‘I knew you were gonna change your mind. That’s why I didn’t hide. So you could follow us.’

Elthan grinned in relief. ‘All right. Are we goin’ tonight?’

‘Not if there’s more guards who could join us,’ said Red. ‘Listen – I’ll get Ranulf out, an’ you’ll go back to the barracks an’ act like nothin’ happened. You’re gonna try an’ talk some others into coming with us, an’ when you’re ready, leave me a message an’ I’ll show you the way out. You ain’t gonna know it until you use it, in case you’re caught. In the meantime, I’ve got work to do here.’

Elthan nodded. ‘I got it. Where’ll you leave the message?’

‘Here at the White Serpent,’ said Red. ‘When it’s time to meet up again, I’ll tie somethin’ onto the sign outside. You’ll know it when you see it, an’ when you do, go to the new guard tower – the one where we caught the Hangman. There’s an empty house just down the street from it. That’s where I’ll be.’

‘Yes Captain,’ Elthan grinned. ‘I’ll see you there.’

‘An’ if you get into trouble,’ Red added. ‘Get the word out. I’ll hear it, an’ I’ll come. That’s a promise.’

‘I’ll remember.’ Elthan nodded again and hurried away.

‘Right then,’ said Red. ‘Now to get you out of Liranwee. There’ll be others waiting, don’t worry.’

‘Who?’ asked Ranulf.

‘Lots of people,’ said Red as they set off again. ‘Everyone I could get. Some of the others from the old guard who quit like you. Most of ’em were so desperate, they’d have said yes if I just offered them food, an’ forget the loyalty business.’

Ranulf chuckled. ‘It’s good t’be walkin’ the city with you again, Red. It really is. I’ve missed it. Missed you, too.’

‘An’ me,’ said Red. ‘I thought I’d never see you again. Sometimes I’d think of you, an’ the others as well, an’ wonder if any of you were still alive. But I thought I’d never see Liranwee’s walls again, or anyone behind ’em. Thought I’d never see Cymria again, come to that.’

‘Eh?’ said Ranulf. ‘Why? Where’d you go.’

‘Hrm,’ Red grunted. ‘I guess while we’re walkin’ I can fill you in a bit.’

So, while they headed through the streets to the south end of the city, Red gave Ranulf his story, or some of it, telling him about slavery in Amoran, and the massacre in the Imperial Palace, and about Kraego as well.

Ranulf listened in amazement. ‘You’re a griffiner now?’

‘Yeah,’ said Red. ‘Kraego’s waitin’ for us with the others. Right, here we are.’

They’d reached the southern wall of the city where the shacks that made up the poorest part of it crowded right up to the edge. Red led the way to a particularly tumbledown old thing, whose roof had mostly caved in, and whose third wall was also the city wall.

‘Not even rats’d live here,’ he said. ‘But...’

Inside, he lifted a slimy wooden board away to reveal a tunnel.

‘Goes right under the wall,’ he said. ‘An’ comes out in some trees way out from the city. I should warn you it’s a bit of a crawl, an’ a squeeze as well. Just as well you’ve lost weight.’

Ranulf gave the tunnel a dubious look. ‘You sure about this?’

‘I’ve used it dozens of times by now,’ said Red. ‘That’s why I’m so filthy. That an’ I ain’t had time for a bath. Morgan used it to get in, too. They’d filled it in when I got back, but I dug it out again. Took days. Now c’mon, let’s go.’

The tunnel did indeed turn out to be a tight squeeze. Ranulf had to crawl through it, sometimes wriggling along on his stomach when it got too narrow. It was pitch black as well, suffocatingly so, and full of the smell of dirt.

He could hear Red scrabbling along up ahead of him, sometimes muttering to himself. It was about the only comfort he had, but it was better than nothing as the journey went on and on and never seemed close to ending.

But it did end, eventually, when the tunnel suddenly ended in a vertical hole. Red pulled him up out of it, and into fresh air.

Ranulf collapsed, gasping. ‘Argh. Son of a...’

‘Yeah, not much fun, is it?’ said Red. ‘But we’re out. See?’

Ranulf rolled onto his back, and saw trees above him, lit up by the faint light of dawn. They were out of the city.

Red sat down beside him. ‘Rest up a bit, an’ we’ll go on when yer ready. Not far now.’

Ranulf heaved himself to his feet. ‘I’ll rest when we get there.’

Red stood up. ‘You sure?’

‘Yeah,’ said Ranulf. ‘One last push, right?’

‘Right,’ said Red. ‘It’s this way.’

They walked the last part together, southward through the trees until they reached Red’s camp. A dozen small tents had been put up, disguised with branches so they would be just about invisible from the sky. People were already coming to meet them, but before any of them got close, something massive burst out of the undergrowth and loped towards them.

Ranulf threw himself flat. ‘Holy shit!’

The giant griffin ignored him completely. He went straight to Red, and Red went to him without hesitating, and affectionately rubbed the huge creature’s chest feathers. Ranulf backed off cautiously – he’d never been this close to a griffin before.

‘It’s all right,’ Red said over his shoulder. ‘This is Kraego. My partner. An’ Kraego, this is Ranulf – my other partner.’ He grinned. Ranulf made himself stand up straight, while Kraego glared at him. Then again, he was a griffin, and griffins always looked as if they were glaring. His eyes were bright blue, but they were set into a face covered in black feathers.

‘He’s a black griffin?’ Ranulf exclaimed.

‘Yeah,’ said Red. ‘Son of the Mighty Skandar himself. But he’s on our side, of course.’

Kraego snorted and swished his tail.

‘Right then,’ Red went on. ‘Time to meet the others.’

The others were gathering now, some of them stopping to salute Red and rap out a “sir!” or “Captain!”.

Red saluted back. ‘Morning, everyone. This is Ranulf, my old partner. Some of you already know him, some don’t. He’s with us now. An’ I’ve recruited Elthan too. He’s promised to find some others, an’ steal some weapons an’ armour for us. Now you take care of Ranulf. I’m goin’ back.’

‘Again?’ one man asked. ‘When are we gonna leave, sir? We can’t have much more people, or we’ll never get away without bein’ spotted.’

‘I ain’t goin’ back for more people this time,’ said Red. ‘I came back here to do one other thing too, an’ once I’ve gotten Elthan out, I’m gonna do it. One last thing.’

‘Which is?’ Ranulf prompted.

Red cracked his knuckles. ‘I’m gonna go an’ have a word with the King.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

The Ghost of Liranwee

S

trange things had begun happening in Liranwee. Some months after moving his government into the city, King Caedmon started to hear the reports come in.

Animals panicking for no obvious reason, sometimes even trying to flee the city altogether. Mysterious thefts, where doors and locks would be found broken without anyone having heard a sound. People disappearing without a trace.

And there were other reports. Stories of a ghostly figure that would vanish if anyone tried to approach it – a figure who would sometimes whisper in shadowy places, speaking of betrayal and murder, and revenge.

Caedmon had put it down to superstition and trickery, but it indicated something much more real and important: that there was rebellion in the air, and if things weren’t handled carefully, the situation could get ugly.

He’d done his best, of course, to treat the Southerners sternly without being so harsh that they would fight back – nobody could rule for long by fear alone. But it was hard, and it would take generations before they got used to the new way of life and just accepted it as normal, as his own ancestors had once accepted Southern rule and even slavery.

And then, one day, after weeks of ghostly sightings and mysterious disappearances, a whole rank of the city guard vanished. Shortly afterward, the armoury was found left open, with a good chunk of its contents stolen, and Caedmon’s new Commander of the Guard was found dead – his neck broken by a single brutal blow.

That night, Caedmon paced back and forth in his room, frowning to himself in thought.

Caradoc sat nearby, looking nervous. ‘What are we going to do?’ he asked.

Caedmon glanced up. Shar and Ereska were out flying over the Eyrie, as city-dwelling griffins liked to do, and father and son were alone.

‘I’m not sure yet,’ he said briefly. ‘But it’ll have to be decisive. This is the start of a rebellion, that’s certain. What’s not certain yet is who’s behind it, but in any case we have to put it down, and fast. We strike hard, and fast, and in the right place.’

Caradoc listened seriously. He had turned nine not long after they came to the city, and Caedmon noticed how much more mature he seemed now.

‘But where do we strike?’ the boy asked.

‘Well...’ Caedmon stopped pacing. ‘Considering that it’s mostly guards and former guards who have been disappearing, I suspect it’s one of them behind this. One of the ones who quit after the takeover. It may well be the former Commander Talmon – he escaped from prison about a month ago and hasn’t been seen since.’

‘Then should we look for him?’ Caradoc suggested.

‘We already are,’ said Caedmon. ‘But if he or somebody else is trying to gather support among the guard, then if anyone knows who it is and where they are, it will be one of them. There are bound to be at least a few of them who were offered the chance to join the perpetrators but turned them down. We should offer a reward for any information... but we should also show them the consequences of betrayal by dealing harshly with anyone we catch. We should also arrest some of them on principle – the more reluctant ones, or the ones found in dereliction of duty. That should be an effective way of showing them that we are not to be played with.’

‘Won’t they just hate us more?’ asked Caradoc.

‘They already do,’ said Caedmon. ‘The key to winning the obedience of people who hate you is to teach them fear. But long-term loyalty will mean more in the end, so we will reward the ones who do stay in line. Do you understand?’

‘I think so,’ Caradoc nodded. Caedmon had been discussing decisions like these with him for some time now, to teach him by example how to rule when his own time came. By now, he was more than used to it.

But, of course, he was still a child.

‘What about the ghost?’

‘There is no ghost,’ Caedmon said irritably. ‘When people are afraid, they invent things like this. And perhaps the rebels are hoping to scare us as well with these stories.’

Caradoc looked nervous. ‘I think I’m a bit scared. Just a bit,’ he added hastily.

Caedmon softened, and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, son. I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, and certainly not a ghost! There’s no such thing, besides.’

‘But you said sometimes people can come back from the dead,’ said Caradoc.

‘That’s different,’ said Caedmon. ‘The Shadow That Walks isn’t a ghost. Anyway, he would be on our side!’

‘No he would not,’ a voice interrupted.

Caedmon turned sharply. ‘Who said that?’

There was nobody there.

‘Not your side,’ the voice continued. ‘The Shadow That Walks serves the Night God, not you, Caedmon.’

A cold shiver raced down Caedmon’s spine. ‘Where are you? Let me see you, right now.’

A laugh was the only reply; a cold, harsh laugh.

Caedmon took a step back, towards Caradoc. ‘Stay close to me,’ he said. ‘I don’t like this... You! Wherever you are, show yourself. That’s an order!’

‘Don’t you know me?’ the voice asked. It was deep and rough, and now it grew low and spoke on, a soft chant from the shadows. ‘I am the shadow that comes in the night...’

Caedmon’s stomach twisted, and he pulled the sickle from his belt. ‘Stop that!’

‘...I am the fear that lurks in your heart...’

Caedmon turned this way and that, trying to find the source of the voice, but there was nothing and no-one there. Every door was closed, and there was nowhere to hide. There were only the shadows, and the voice, and a terrible coldness in the air.

‘I am the Shadow That Walks,’ the voice hissed.

Caedmon stood very still. ‘This isn’t possible,’ he said, as calmly as he could.

‘It is,’ said the voice. ‘I am Arenadd Taranisäii reborn. I serve the Night God, and you have offended her.’

The fear grew in Caedmon, sickening and smothering. ‘Show yourself,’ he said again. ‘Now.’

But the voice only spoke on, relentlessly. ‘Caedmon, son of Torc, you are a traitor and a murderer, and a usurper. You betrayed me. And for that, you are cursed.’

Caedmon pointed the sickle at where he thought the voice was coming from. ‘Show yourself!’

‘You were my apprentice,’ said the voice. ‘My heir. I trusted you. But you turned on me. You tried to kill me. You murdered my daughter, who was the rightful Queen. You stole her throne for yourself. And now you have gone against the will of the Night God by leaving your land, and making yourself no better than the Southerners who once made us their slaves! You are no rightful King, and no true Taranisäii either!’

Caradoc started to sob. ‘Who is that? Father, who is that?’

‘I don’t know...’ Caedmon held onto him with his free hand, but he couldn’t find anything else to say. For the first time in years, all his confidence left him. For the first time in years, he had no answer to give. ‘I’m doing the Night God’s will,’ he said at last, as strongly as he could. ‘She sent my mother back to me, to help me take the throne. She wanted me to be King, and she wanted me to invade the South. It was my life’s work.’

‘Liar,’ the voice hissed. ‘You lie to me, you lie to your people, and you lie to yourself! You are the King of the North, not the South, and not Cymria. You have offended the Night God. Go back to Malvern. Take your armies out of the South and never return, and you will be forgiven for your crimes. If not, you will be punished.’

Caedmon turned around, still trying to see the man. ‘Show yourself!’ he roared, trying desperately not to let his fear show.

A man stepped out of the shadows and into the lamplight. His clothes were ragged and dirty, but underneath them he was big and burly. A gold medal hung around his neck.

‘Son of a bitch!’ Caedmon swore. ‘How on earth did you get in here?’

‘Through the door, stupid,’ the man snapped back. ‘An’ don’t bother calling for the guards. I’ve already killed them all. Now listen up, you bastard, ’cause I got an ultimatum for you, an’ I ain’t gonna give it twice.’

‘Who are you?’ Caedmon demanded.

The man reached up and ripped off his hood, so both of them could see his red hair, and the lifeless black eyes beneath it. ‘My name,’ he said harshly, ‘Is Captain Kearney Redguard. The last Redguard. Your spy Morgan stabbed me in the back, you had me tortured, an’ the both of you destroyed my city an’ took over my homeland. So let’s just say, I ain’t so fond of you.’

Caradoc whimpered. ‘Oh Night God...’

Caedmon looked steadily back at the big Southerner. ‘So are you here to kill me?’

‘No,’ said Red. ‘Just to talk. But only this once. Listen now, or the next time you see me it’ll be when my hands are around your neck.’

‘Speak, then,’ said Caedmon. ‘And it had better be good, because they’re going to be your last words.’

‘Nah,’ said Red. ‘I don’t really remember, but I think my last words were somethin’ like “Let go of me you son of a filthy bastard’s bastard!”. Not so inspiring, really. Now listen up.’

He pointed at Caedmon’s face. ‘The Shadow That Walks has come, an’ it’s me. An’ I am not on your side, or the Night God’s side, or anyone’s side except mine. So here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna take your armies, all of ’em, an’ you’re gonna leave. You’re gonna go back to the North, an’ you’re never comin’ back. An’ if you don’t do it, an’ fast, I’m gonna make you suffer.’

Caedmon did not try and argue. He had seen Red’s eyes, and that was all the proof he needed. They were Arenadd’s eyes now, and Saeddyn’s. The eyes of a dead man.

‘I’m willing to die for my people,’ he said quietly.

‘So was I,’ said Red. ‘But that ain’t what I’ll do. I never took you for a coward, see. No, if you don’t do as I’ve said, I’ll come back. An’ not for you. I’ll come for him.’ He pointed at Caradoc.

Caedmon stiffened. ‘No. Don’t you dare!’

‘Oh, I will,’ said Red. ‘I mean it, blackrobe. You leave my country, or I’ll come back, an’ I’ll take him. Your only son. I’ll drag him away into the shadows, an’ there won’t be a damn thing anyone can do to stop me. An’ then, I’ll send him back to you in pieces. Legs first, so he stays alive long enough for you to know he’s suffering before I take off his head.’

Caedmon held his son tightly. ‘You wouldn’t do that!’

‘Oh yeah?’ said Red. ‘You wanna try me an’ find out? Don’t you know nothin’ about the Shadows That Walk? We don’t feel guilt. I ain’t gonna lie – I enjoyed killin’ those guards of yours. How much pleasure d’you reckon I’ll get out of cutting your son to bits? If you’re lucky, once I’m done with him, I might come back an’ do the same to Morgan, an’ if you’re real lucky I might do it to you too an’ put you out of your misery.’

‘No!’ Caradoc clutched his father’s hand. ‘You leave him alone!’

Red chuckled. ‘Brave boy. He’ll make a fine King one day. If he’s still alive, an’ I sure as sunrise don’t mean to let that Morgan live. An’ if you leave, that’s how it’ll be. You’ll live to see him grow up, an’ see him have kids of his own, an’ become king just like his daddy. Me, I’m not gonna have any kids. There’ll never be another Redguard. Might not be any more Taranisäiis either. But Caradoc might still have a chance. The choice is yours.’ He nodded. ‘Sleep well.’

With that, he turned and slid away into the shadows, vanishing like a bad dream.

Afterwards, neither Caedmon nor Caradoc dared move for a long moment. Caradoc didn’t let go of his father’s hand.

After a little while, the boy relaxed and started to cry.

Caedmon dropped his sickle and sat down, lifting his son onto his knee. ‘It’s all right, Caradoc. It’s all right. Don’t cry.’

But Caradoc only sobbed and clung to his father like the child he still was.

Caedmon held him back, fiercely. ‘It’s all right. I won’t let him hurt you. I swear by the Night God, I won’t let him touch you. I’ll die to protect you if I have to, do you understand? I’ll die before I let anything happen to you.’

‘No!’ Caradoc sobbed. ‘No, don’t. I don’t want you to die.’

‘And neither do I,’ said Caedmon. ‘But for you, I would. I swear it.’

‘We’ve got to go,’ said Caradoc. He took a few deep breaths and fiercely wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. ‘We’ve got to go home, quick, before he comes back, we’ve got to do what he said!’

Caedmon’s eyes narrowed. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’re going to find him. We’re going to catch him. And then we’re going to find a way to kill him. I’ll have him burned at the stake if I have to. I swear by the Night God’s holy name.’

‘But if we don’t go, he’ll kill us!’ said Caradoc.

‘That’s why we have to find him first,’ said Caedmon. He stood up, still holding his son’s hand. ‘Come on, Caradoc. We have work to do.’

*

Red left the city immediately after his talk with the King, but not through the secret passage. That was only necessary when he was with someone else. Now, on his own, he used the shadows and left by the open front gates, completely unnoticed. From there, he went back to the forest where the others camped, moving silently and effortlessly through a world of darkness that would have sucked the life out of him if he had any left to take.

It was terrifying, but exhilarating as well, and the more he used it the easier it became. But that easiness only scared him more. He didn’t want it to become easier, any more than he had wanted the killing of the guard commander to thrill him as much as it had.

But it had, and he couldn’t make himself forget the savage joy that had rushed through him when the life had left the Northerner’s eyes, or when the blood of the guards outside the King’s room had spurted over his hands and trickled down his arms.

And then afterwards, when he had spoken from the shadows and issued his threats... he had heard the ice in his own voice, and the fear in their eyes had given him pleasure as well – pleasure of a kind he did not remember feeling when he was alive.

But he had lied as well, in more ways than one. He had lied when he said that he didn’t feel guilt.

He felt no guilt for the killings, or the threats, no. It wasn’t like that. He felt guilt because he had enjoyed them so much, and that was different.

Was this what it was like? he asked himself as he stalked through the shadows. Is this what it felt like to be him? Or her?

The thought made him want to be sick. He told himself, as he had many times already, that he was doing this for a cause that was right. But that only made him wonder if the Dark Lord Arenadd had once told himself the same thing.

And Saeddryn, her too. Maybe every one of history’s greatest monsters had done the same.

The smell of warm blood burned in his nostrils. All living things smelled like that to him now, but humans in particular.

He emerged from the shadows, and walked the last short distance to the camp.

The others were waiting – they had been ordered to pack up and be ready to leave the moment he came back, and he could see they had done just that. The tents had been folded, and the supplies he’d stolen put into packs. Everyone had been waiting, either in groups, or perched in trees to keep a lookout.

Talmon was one of the first to reach him. ‘There you are, Captain.’

Red saluted his old Commander without thinking. ‘Yes, sir!’

Talmon smiled. ‘Old habits die hard, eh?’

Red relaxed and smiled back. ‘They do, sir. Is everyone ready?’

Back when Red had known him in the old days, Talmon had worn his grey hair short. Now, it had grown out somewhat, but he’d shaved off the beard he had grown in prison. There was a scar on his forehead now, and more elsewhere. The Northerners didn’t take kindly to defiance, it seemed.

‘They are, Captain. And you?’

‘Yeah, how’d it go?’ asked Ranulf, coming to join them. He was wearing his old guard armour, which Elthan had stolen back for him along with his spear and sword. The armour fit him a little more loosely now.

Red hesitated. Everyone was listening with interest.

‘Where’s Kraego?’ he asked.

‘Hunting, I think,’ said Elthan. ‘He flew off.’

Red nodded. ‘He’ll find us again when he’s ready. It’s not easy to give a griffin the slip, especially when there’s – how many are we now, Talmon?’

‘Fifty-one,’ said Talmon. ‘Fifty-two counting you. Now how did it go? Did you get to the King?’

‘Yeah,’ Red nodded. He noticed that most of his listeners were keeping a slight distance. All of them had been told what he was by now. They listened as he described everything that had happened. Several of them cringed.

‘You said that?’ Elthan exclaimed.

‘Yeah,’ said Red. ‘An’ trust me, it worked. Man went as pale as a fish’s belly.’

A good number of the group looked uncomfortable.

‘I dunno,’ Ranulf mumbled. ‘Cuttin’ up a kid... you ain’t really gonna do that, are you?’

Red pulled a face. ‘No way, but he’s not gonna risk it, is he?’

‘And if he does?’ asked Talmon.

‘Then I’ll kidnap the kid,’ said Red. ‘Hold him hostage. That’ll give us the upper hand when we’re ready for open war.’

‘I don’t get why you didn’t just kill the bastard,’ said Ranulf.

‘I wanted to,’ said Red. ‘But he’s the best way to end this fast. With one man in charge, we’ve got him to negotiate with, an’ he can take all of them out of here. But I thought it over, an’ if he dies... well, Morgan’d be put in charge, but that’d just put us back where we started. If both of them died, there’d be a kid in charge. The council would take over, or there’d be a power struggle, an’ we’d be contendin’ with a bunch of different leaders, not just one. It’d get complicated is what I’m sayin’.’

Ranulf looked a little lost. ‘Oh,’ he said.

Talmon nodded sagely. ‘You’re smarter than you look, Captain. And clearly, you know what you’re doing.’

‘Yeah, but so do you,’ said Red. ‘That’s why you’re my second. Now, if everything’s ready, let’s head off.’

‘Now can you tell us where we’re goin’?’ asked one of the few women in the crowd.

‘Yeah.’ Red rolled his shoulders to loosen them. ‘We’re goin’ to Monag Island.’

––––––––

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sacrifice

T

he journey back to Monag took months.

Red led his group south, away from Liranwee, with Talmon as his second in command and Ranulf and Elthan as assistants to both of them, one to handle the supplies and the other to keep everyone in line. Almost all of the new recruits were guards, and therefore knew how to march in formation, but most of the time they couldn’t afford to do that, or even stay together. Therefore, at Talmon’s suggestion, they split into several smaller groups and travelled between landmarks, meeting up again at each one. Kraego joined them not far out from Liranwee, and flew overhead to keep a lookout, sometimes stealing cattle for food. The giant griffin was disinclined to share his kills, but Red could help. He used his power to hunt or steal supplies along the way, and as the fastest and stealthiest of them, he moved from group to group, keeping everyone in touch.

The hardest part came when they reached New Eagleholm. None of them dared go too close except for Red and Kraego, who scouted it out and returned to confirm that the city was in Northern hands and the travellers would have to go around it.

They did, skirting around it as widely as possible, and pressed on through the wild country beyond it. There, they were able to join up again, but it was far harsher terrain than they had had to negotiate before, and it took all Red’s new skills to keep them fed. With his newly heightened sense of smell, he was able to work out which plants were edible and how to track animals, which were easy enough for him to catch. The biggest threat aside from starvation came from the handful of wild griffins in the area, but few of them were bold enough to go near Kraego and when one did, he saw it off in a flurry of screeches and talon-blows.

Finally, when they reached the Southern-most shore of Cymria, it was time to stop.

‘Make camp here,’ Red told the others. ‘Kraego an’ me will fly over to Monag and bring a ship.’

Talmon, by now just as ragged and wild looking as everyone else, nodded. ‘We’ll wait here and see to it that there’s plenty of smoke for you to see.’

Red nodded back, and hoisted himself onto Kraego’s back. ‘See you later. We’ll be back by nightfall, most likely.’

Kraego took off, and flew out over the sea at a leisurely pace. Red sat easily on his back, used to flying by now. Kraego still refused to wear a harness like other partnered griffins, but Red had gotten used to that as well. It didn’t matter so much if he fell off now, and anyway, he never felt as if he would. Kraego’s power was in him now, and the two of them were bound together in a way that went beyond partnership, beyond friendship, beyond even brotherhood.

Now Kraego’s wings carried both of them over the narrow channel between Monag and the mainland, and beyond the island’s shores to the Eyrie tower where they had stayed before. Red was relieved to see that nothing looked too different, but he thought there were a couple more griffins flying overhead than before.

On the Eyrie roof, Merca and Tarak quickly arrived to meet them.

‘There ya are,’ Merca said brusquely. ‘And not before time! This lot are eatin’ us out of house and home so they are!’

‘It’s all right,’ said Red. ‘We’ll be leavin’ soon, but I’ll need a ship to bring the others over from the mainland first. We have to regroup an’ have a planning meeting before we’re ready to start. How is everyone? Still alive?’

‘They are, and growing more numerous by the day,’ said Merca. ‘We were happy enough to see most of them, but now with these Northerners...’

Red started. ‘Northerners? You mean Teressa...?’

‘Yes, Teressa, that’s the one,’ said Merca. ‘She’s sent a gang of her friends down here to bother us, and by Gryphus there was nearly a fight when they came, so there was! Some of us t’ort it was an invasion, so we did, but that Isleen put a stop to it. They’re not liking it too well, they aren’t. It’s all a bit tense it is. They keep asking us when you’re going to show.’

‘Well I have now,’ said Red. ‘I’d better see ’em. Can you get someone t’fetch Teressa? I can have a quick word with her before I go get the others.’

‘I would, but she’s not here,’ said Merca. ‘I’ll find one of her friends. Wait here, laddie.’ She hurried off.

‘She’s as much of a weirdo as I remember,’ Red murmured, mostly to himself.

Merca returned after a while, followed by two people. Red tensed instinctively when he saw them, and almost reached for his sword before he stopped himself.

They were Northerners, both of them, a man and a woman. Both of them looked aristocratic, finely clad and very upright, and sure enough a pair of griffins flew down to join them shortly after they arrived.

Red stood there for a moment, eyeing them, while they eyed him back just as cautiously.

But then the woman came forward, and knelt at his feet. ‘Master,’ she said.

The man came closer, peering at Red’s face. He reached out. ‘May I...?’

Red nodded briefly, and the man touched him on the neck and kept his hand there a moment, feeling for a pulse.

After a few moments, his face slacked in astonishment. ‘By the Night God...’

He took a step back, and knelt as well, murmuring, ‘Master.’

‘Get up,’ Red said shortly. ‘I ain’t a King an’ I don’t like bein’ knelt to. Now, who are you?’

The man stood, and bowed. ‘Lord Anfri, son of Lady Hafwen. And this is my wife, Lady Lowri.’

The woman also stood. ‘You are the Shadow That Walks,’ she said, in disbelief.

‘I am,’ Red nodded. ‘You’re shadow worshippers, like Teressa?’

‘We are,’ said Anfri. ‘We were both junior griffiners in Malvern. We met Teressa in the Temple, and she converted us herself. When she told us about you... we knew we had to go and find you, no matter what it took.’

Lowri nodded. ‘The first Shadow That Walks led our people to freedom. Now his successor has come, and we know our duty is to follow him, no matter where that might lead.’

‘So you’ll do as I say?’ asked Red.

‘To the death,’ said Anfri, with complete sincerity.

‘Good. How many of you are there, anyway?’

‘Thirty of us,’ said Lowri.

Red stared. ‘Thirty?’

‘Aye,’ said Anfri. ‘Most of us are griffiners. And more of us will come once they know about you. Word will spread.’

Red rubbed his forehead. ‘Good gods. Where’s Teressa? I gotta thank her.’

Both of them looked uncomfortable.

‘Master, I don’t want to make demands,’ said Anfri. ‘Especially when I’ve had no chance to prove my loyalty to you. But we also need your help.’

‘With what?’ said Red. ‘Look, don’t muck about – where’s Teressa?’

‘That’s just it, you see,’ said Lowri. ‘She’s not here. She’s in Malvern. They’ve arrested her.’

‘Shit!’ Red looked at Anfri. ‘When?’

‘About a month ago,’ said Anfri. ‘She stayed as long as she could... she was arrested just before we got out of the city.’

‘What’ll they do with her, then?’ asked Red. ‘No, don’t tell me... gods, I know what they do to traitors. They almost did it to me. They’re gonna kill her, aren’t they?’

‘Yes,’ said Anfri. ‘But not for treachery. Only we believed her, you see. The unbelievers wouldn’t listen to her. They don’t think you exist, and they certainly don’t believe that the Shadow That Walks could be a Southerner. She’s been arrested for blasphemy. But the penalty—,’

‘Death,’ Red finished for him.

‘Yes,’ said Anfri. ‘But I don’t think they will have killed her yet. One of us is an apprentice priestess like her, and she says... well...’

‘Says what?’ Red snapped.

Anfri looked frightened. ‘The Blood Moon is coming.’

*

Orak was not with Teressa when the arrest happened.

She had asked him to stay outside the city and wait for her while she talked to her followers. He wouldn’t be able to protect her that way, but if he were with her he’d make her too conspicuous. Questions would be asked about why she wasn’t in the Eyrie, and then it might come out that she had become a griffiner but not sworn her loyalty to the Eyrie and taken an apprenticeship as the law demanded.

Instead, she had decided to go in stealthily, and hope nobody noticed her.

And, at first, it had worked. She had gone to the houses of people she knew were members of her circle of secret worshippers, and given them the word that the Shadow That Walked had come again. She had asked them to spread the word to every other worshipper they knew, and had held several meetings in secret where she told them what had happened.

Most of them were sceptical, but they all listened, and some of them agreed to go to Monag immediately. Others left without making a decision, but either way she saw to it that the news got out.

She never found out who decided to betray her, but after several days, she embarked on the riskiest part of her mission: infiltrating the Eyrie itself. Luckily one of her followers was a servant there, and he helped her to get into the building. There she tracked down griffiners like Anfri and gave them the news about Red and Kraego.

The next day, she was arrested. She had decided to leave the city and meet up with Orak – he would want to see that she was all right, and it was time to start planning how they would get the others to Monag. But before she had gone very far at all, a pair of guards accosted her.

‘Are you Teressa, the apprentice priestess?’ one asked abruptly.

Teressa hesitated before saying yes.

‘Then you’re under arrest,’ said the guard. ‘For treason and blasphemy.’

She had tried to run away, but by then it was already too late. They took her away between them, and then to Malvern’s main prison complex. If they’d known she was a griffiner, she would have been thrown into one of the cells under the Eyrie, but as far as they knew she was a commoner, and commoners went in a common prison.

It didn’t matter one way or the other. A cell was a cell.

She lay in it now, curled up on her side, and felt her injuries throb relentlessly. There were a few of them by now: bruises on her face, and a deep cut on her chin.

There had been no trial. Commoners didn’t get trials, and she hadn’t told them she was a griffiner. There hadn’t been any torture, either, and there should have been.

When she first came to the prison, they had given her a rough interrogation, demanding to know about this supposed Shadow That Walked, about Southerners, and who she had tried to talk into betraying their country.

She’d answered them with the truth. It was wrong to lie about something you truly believed in. They should know about what had happened; every Northerner should know what their duty was now. Though she had promised herself that, no matter what, she wouldn’t tell them where to find Red she knew, deep down, that they could get it out of her if they wanted to.

They didn’t believe her.

They hit her around the face and asked their questions, but they didn’t believe the answers. But not because they thought she was lying.

‘She’s insane,’ the guard commander finally said. ‘Stop. Stop!’

They stopped hitting her.

‘Enough of this,’ the commander had ordered. ‘We’re not going to get anything out of her. She’s raving. Put her back in her cell.’

So they had, and after that she had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her. Nobody bothered to inform her.

For the first few days in the cell, she waited – expecting them to come for her at any moment and take her to the scaffold or the chopping block.

But nobody came.

Time dragged out, day after day, week after week, and still nothing happened. No more interrogations, but no execution either. Nobody spoke to her, and she didn’t see anyone at all except the guards patrolling past her cell, and the man who brought her food and emptied the toilet jar in the corner.

All she could do was sit or lie in the dark, and try and imagine what might happen to her. Would she be disembowelled as a traitor, or would she die for blasphemy instead? She didn’t know what they did to blasphemers, but it must be death.

But when a month had passed, and then another began its relentless march, and still nothing happened, she started to wonder if they were just going to leave her here until she really did become as insane as they thought she was.

By now, she had already thought of suicide more than once. Anything, anything would be better than sitting here in the dark all alone, not knowing if she was going to live or die, not knowing what was happening to Orak or Red or anyone she had left behind.

I was a fool, she thought, day after day, more and more bitterly. Why hadn’t she had the sense to protect herself? Why hadn’t she lied to the guards? Why hadn’t it ever occurred to her that someone might betray her? Had she really been stupid enough to think that she would be protected just because she was a follower of the Shadow That Walked, or of the Night God?

Everyone knew the Night God could not or did not protect her followers from death; her mercy was to bring death and peace to the suffering, not to save their lives. And the Shadow That Walked? What about him?

Teressa could see the sky through her cell window, and at night she would look out at the stars – and the moon, when it was visible – and pray. Prayer was all she had here.

She prayed to the Night God many times, uselessly asking for her help, or at least her forgiveness.

She knew it would never work. Either the Night God couldn’t help her, or she just didn’t care.

She prayed to Arenadd as well, and over time she found herself praying to him more and more often, and leaving the Night God behind. The Night God had never helped her, so far as she knew, but Arenadd had. He’d sent her to find his successor, and if she was going to die then it would be in his name, and in his service.

But no, she thought one night. No, not Arenadd’s service. Red’s service. He was her master now.

She remembered what he had said to her back then, when he gave her his permission to leave, and sometimes, when the loneliness got too much, she even imagined she could hear his voice.

“If you get into trouble, send a message. I’ll come.”

That was when she decided, and that night she prayed again – but not to the Night God, or Arenadd.

‘Red,’ she murmured, hands clasped. ‘Captain Redguard. Help me. Ye said ye would come when I needed ye, and I need ye. Help me, Red.’

It was the only prayer that had made her feel any better in weeks.

‘But if ye can’t help me,’ she added, ‘If ye don’t, then I’ll die for ye. My life for ye, just as I promised. Aye...’

And then, the next day, they came for her at last.

A pair of guards opened the door, and one of them made an impatient gesture at her.

‘Get up.’

Teressa stumbled to her feet. ‘Is it time?’ she asked urgently. ‘Are they going to—?’

The guard’s reply was to grab her by the shoulder and pull her towards him. He took her by the wrist while his friend took the other, and snapped on a set of manacles.

‘Now move.’

Teressa shuffled obediently out of the cell while they took up station on either side of her, holding her by the shoulders.

Her heart pounded so badly that she felt sick and dizzy with it. But she breathed deeply and forced herself not to panic, not now. She was a priestess, and the most loyal follower of the Shadow That Walked. She would go to her death bravely.

Arenadd, she prayed silently. Help me be brave and die honourably, like ye.

But when her guards took her out of the prison they didn’t take her to the scaffold, but out into the street.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, puzzled.

One of them slapped her across the head by way of an answer.

It was daylight outside, and her eyes ached. They hadn’t been touched by light this bright in weeks, and she instinctively squeezed them shut and let the guards guide her along.

Her eyes took a long time to adjust – she opened them slowly and cautiously, and peered down at herself. Her silver robe was filthy and torn, and stained with blood from the congealing wound on her chin. She groaned to herself, and looked up blearily at her surroundings.

Ahead, she saw the dome of the Temple and realised what was going on. But she didn’t try and say anything.

Inside the Temple was just as she remembered, dimly lit by the blue-glass lanterns she had always loved. An apprentice priestess like herself was sweeping the floor. She looked up when Teressa came near her, and the look of shock on her face quickly darkened into anger.

‘Betrys,’ Teressa said in surprise. ‘It’s me—,’

Betrys stepped forward and spat in her face.

The guard on Teressa’s left pushed her away. ‘Keep back!’

Betrys moved back. ‘Traitor!’ she yelled at Teressa. ‘Blasphemer!’

Teressa had no hand free to wipe the spit off her face. She couldn’t find anything to say at all; and only stared at her former friend in stunned silence.

The guards made her walk on, past the altar to the back of the Temple’s main space, where the doors led to its private rooms. There, they took her to what had once been her own room, and took the manacles off before shoving her inside and locking the door on her.

Teressa slumped down on the bed, and wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe. So they’d given her to the Temple to deal with as a blasphemer. But what would that mean? The Temple didn’t execute people.

The door opened again, and she looked up to see the High Priestess herself, with one of the thirteen lesser priestesses beside her.

‘Holiness,’ Teressa said blankly.

The High Priestess did not smile. ‘Teressa. If you had any sense in you at all you’d be throwing yourself down at my feet and begging for forgiveness.’

‘Well I won’t,’ Teressa said boldly. ‘Because I won’t betray myself, and anyway, it won’t save me. I’ll die with dignity or not at all.’

The High Priestess gave her a disgusted look. ‘I won’t waste my breath arguing with you,’ she said. ‘There’s no point. We all know what you’ve done, and may you find forgiveness in the afterlife. For now—,’ she nodded to the other priestess, who came in, carrying a bucket of water. ‘Clean yourself up and say the death-prayers until nightfall.’

Teressa cringed. ‘What—?’

‘Be grateful,’ the High Priestess added. ‘You’ve been chosen for the highest honour, which you hardly deserve. The Blood Moon is tonight, and at midnight your blood will be given to the Night God. Until then, make your peace with her. We will send for you when the time comes.’

Teressa stared in horror – but only for a moment. ‘Fool!’ she yelled. ‘Ye are blind! I tell ye, the Shadow That Walks has come, and I was doing his will by being here.’

‘That’s enough,’ the other priestess snapped. ‘We’ve heard the lunacy you’ve been spouting.’

‘It’s the truth,’ said Teressa, calming down. ‘He’s come. The new Shadow That Walks has come, and it’s our duty to—,’

The High Priestess started forward, and actually slapped her across the face. ‘Silence! I won’t have you saying this blasphemy in my Temple.’

But Teressa was immune to pain by now. She laughed in the High Priestess’ face. ‘Ye’ll see,’ she said. ‘Ye’ll all see. He’ll come here, I swear. I called him. He’ll come, and if ye don’t bow to him, he’ll kill ye for yer own blasphemy!’

The High Priestess shook her head in disgust and left, with her underling following. The door locked behind them.

Teressa knew she should be afraid, but she wasn’t. Not any more. A kind of madness had filled her – a mad courage, maybe. She was ready to die. And when she did, she knew what would happen. She knew who would come for her. Tonight she would be sacrificed on the altar, and then she would go to be with Arenadd.

‘Forever,’ she said aloud, and knelt by the bucket of water to splash her face.

She washed herself vigorously, scrubbing her face, arms and legs and trying to clean her robe as well – though they wouldn’t let her keep it when the time came.

When she was finished, she lay down on her old bed and stared at the ceiling with the stars she had painted on it so long ago. She knew she should pray now – she was expected to, at least.

But she didn’t. She had prayed enough, and it hadn’t done her the slightest bit of good.

Instead, she rolled onto her side and went to sleep. Maybe, she thought, she would dream of Arenadd.

––––––––

Chapter Twenty-Six

A Vision of Evil

W

hen Teressa woke up again it was night, and she could already hear the chanting of the priestesses outside.

The bucket of water was where she’d left it, and she got up and splashed her face again to wake herself up. Everything felt hazy and unreal.

Now, finally, feeling a little calmer, she wondered if she should pray after all. But to who? To what?

‘Red,’ she murmured to herself. ‘Kearney...’

The door opened at that moment, and two junior priestesses entered.

Teressa stood up and eyed them resignedly. ‘Is it time?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said one of them. ‘Take yer robe off.’

Teressa knew that they’d only tear it off by force if she didn’t, so she stripped and stood there, shivering a little, while they came forward. One of them was holding a small pot of blue paste, and she silently dipped her fingers in it and began to draw designs on Teressa’s body, forming spirals and moon symbols over her stomach, breasts and arms, with the shape of the full moon between her hips, over her womb.

‘Now,’ the first priestess said once the painting was finished. ‘Come.’

They took her by the elbows and led her out of the room. She was barefoot – her shoes had been taken away from her in prison.

Completely naked, she stepped out into the main Temple. The thirteen senior priestesses were there, standing in a ring around the altar, one in front of each of the thirteen standing stones. The High Priestess was there too, by the altar and in front of the statue of the Night God herself, and she stood aside to let Teressa and her attendants come forward.

The altar had been fitted with manacles which were normally hidden, tucked away in little alcoves cut for just that purpose. Normally the altar had nothing on it except the silver divining bowl and the ceremonial dagger that worshippers used to offer their own blood to the Night God.

Now the bowl was gone, and the knife was tucked into the High Priestess’ fur loincloth. Every one of the priestesses was dressed in their ceremonial outfits, each one bare-breasted with her face covered by a wooden animal mask. The High Priestess herself wore the mask of a griffin.

She nodded silently to the two junior priestesses holding Teressa, and they dragged her towards the altar. ‘Lie down,’ one said.

When Teressa saw the altar, with the faint stains of old sacrifices still visible on it, terror suddenly stabbed into her heart. She tried to pull away, so suddenly and violently that she broke their grip.

She didn’t get far. Two of the senior priestesses stepped in her way, and pushed her back into the grasp of her captors, who grabbed her by the arms and twisted them behind her back.

Teressa wrenched at them, not even noticing the pain in her shoulders. ‘No! Stop!’

Then she fought, really fought, with every scrap of strength she had, as they dragged her back to the altar by force and shoved her down on it. The manacles snapped closed around her wrists and ankles, and when the priestesses let go of her she could barely move.

‘Let me go!’ she screamed at them. ‘Arenadd! Arenadd, help me! Red, help me!’

One of the junior priestesses stuffed a gag into her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but nearly choked on it instead. She could hardly breathe.

After that, there was nothing more she could do but lie there, while the chant went on. Above, through the hole in the roof, she could see the moon reaching its zenith. Soon it would be directly above her, and then it would begin to darken.

Below it, the statue of the Night God stared down on her, cold and pitiless. For now the moonlight lit up the statue from behind, but tonight the shadow would darken it as it darkened the moon. The moment the shadow covered the moon completely, they would kill her so that her blood would feed the Night God and bring the Blood Moon.

Worshippers had started to file into the Temple; she could hear them. Above and around her the chants went on, and the songs, the sacred songs. The moon finished its rising, and the shadow began to slide over it, bit by bit.

The High Priestess started to speak, while the other priestesses chanted more softly, providing a counterpoint to her loud, passionate voice.

‘Tonight, the most sacred time has come!’ she said. ‘Tonight, the Night God’s shining eye will be covered by a shadow, and she will be blind to us. Without the strength of her worshippers, she cannot survive.’

The people in the Temple gave a collective moan.

‘But,’ the High Priestess went on, ‘with the offering of true Northern blood, the Night God will live!’ she waved a hand over Teressa’s naked body. ‘This Northerner here will die in the name of the Night God, and her soul and her blood will feed her, and save her!’

The worshippers cheered.

Above, the moon darkened. The shadow was spreading, and fast. Soon the moonlight would be gone completely.

Frantically, Teressa pushed at the gag with her tongue. She had to get rid of it; she couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t want to die mute. After a couple of attempts it came loose, and she spat it out.

And then, without warning, the screaming began.

The High Priestess broke off mid-sentence and looked up sharply. Outside the circle, the gathered worshippers scattered, some of them shouting in fright.

Teressa turned her head with difficulty, and saw it. Saw... him.

Two griffins burst into the Temple, one grey, one black, and between them was a shadowy man. She saw him look straight at her, and heard him shout.

‘No!’

The griffins charged, and an instant later, so did the man. She could see his face as he rushed straight at the altar, his expression full of horror and rage, mouth still open to bellow a war cry.

‘Redguard!’

Teressa tried to reach toward him. ‘Red!’ she shouted back.

*

Red saw her, and heard her, even in the midst of his revulsion and the panic around him. He saw the circle of priestesses, some pulling their masks off to stare at him in shock. But more important than them, he saw the sacrifice. Teressa, naked and painted with blue patterns, chained on the altar like an animal for slaughter.

When he saw that, whatever plans he might have made beforehand flew out of his head. He drew his father’s sword and charged, roaring his war cry with all his might.

One of the priestesses tried to stop him. He hurled her out of the way with his free hand, and sent her staggering to the ground. The others ran, shrieking in fright, and left his way to the altar clear.

Teressa struggled against the chains. ‘Red!’

Red came on towards her. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘I got you.’

Someone stepped in his way.

Red pointed his sword at her. ‘Sod off out of the way, you.’

The High Priestess raised the sacrificial knife. ‘No! Get out of here Southerner – you don’t know what you’re doing!’

‘I ain’t gonna warn you again,’ Red growled.

‘I can’t,’ said the High Priestess. ‘Without the sacrifice, the Night God will—’

‘I’m countin’ on it.’ Red shoved her out of the way and went to the altar, reaching out to undo the manacles. ‘It’s all right, Teressa, I’m gonna – argh!’

He reeled back, clutching at himself.

Above, the moon had darkened completely.

The High Priestess didn’t wait to stab Red again. She pushed past him and rushed at Teressa, raising the sacrificial knife.

But Red was too fast for her. He whirled around silently, and brought his sword down on the High Priestess’ back.

She screamed and staggered forward, and Red came up behind her and stabbed her to death. She groaned and toppled over, landing on top of Teressa. Blood streamed down over her shoulder and onto the altar... and then Red fell forward into absolute blackness.

*

Red opened his eyes and turned around, bewildered.

He was still in the Temple... or something that looked vaguely like it. The altar was still in front of him, but now there was nothing on it except a pool of blood. Around him the miniature stone circle had grown huge, expanding to fill the Temple.

But there was no Temple around him now. The mosaic on the floor had become grass, the stars painted on the ceiling had become a real, starry sky – a sky with no moon in it.

Around him, standing in front of the stones, were the priestesses, or a twisted version of them. Bare-breasted women, standing silently and staring at him through their masks – but, he realised, these weren’t masks, but real. Women with the heads of animals. Thirteen of them.

‘What the blazes?’ he mumbled aloud. ‘Where am I? What’s goin’ on?’ he peered at the beast-women. ‘An’ what in the gods’ names are they?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about them,’ a voice said behind him. ‘They won’t hurt you.’

Red turned sharply, and saw him.

A tall, robed man with a pointed beard and curly hair. A Northerner, with a scar under his eye like a tear-track. There was a sardonic look on his face.

‘Caedmon—?’ Red began, and stopped. This wasn’t Caedmon; it couldn’t be.

The man only rolled his eyes. ‘That’s the Dark Lord Arenadd to you, Southerner.’

Red’s own eyes narrowed. ‘You. Why’re you here? What is this place?’

‘No idea,’ said Arenadd. ‘But what I’m more interested in is why you’re here, Kearney Redguard.’ He walked silently around the altar, trailing the tip of one finger through the pool of blood. ‘I must say,’ he added, ‘We were expecting a sacrifice tonight, but we certainly didn’t think it would come from you of all people. Even if you are the Shadow That Walks, I didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.’

‘What?’ said Red. ‘What sacrifice? I stopped the sacrifice.’

‘Ahem,’ Arenadd coughed and held up his bloodied finger. ‘I believe I can see true Northern blood on this altar. Blood which you spilled.’

Red frowned. ‘You mean the priestess—? Dammit!’

‘Yes, I’m afraid it counts,’ said Arenadd. ‘But if it’s any consolation, I seriously doubt that not having the sacrifice would have killed the Night God, or done anything very much. Most of what people believe about her is nonsense, you know. You did save Teressa’s life, though, and I’d like to thank you for that.’

‘Yeah, she worships you,’ said Red. ‘It’s creepy. Where are we, anyway?’

Arenadd shrugged. ‘It gives her life meaning, so she’s welcome to it. And as I said, I don’t really know what this place is. But I came here myself once or twice.’ He shrugged again. ‘Being a Southerner you wouldn’t know about it, of course. But he who sacrifices on the night of the Blood Moon is granted a meeting with the Night God. Something like that anyway. But I suspect it only works if the man in question is the Shadow That Walks. The living don’t generally get to see her.’

Red turned around quickly, scanning the black landscape. ‘Where is she, then?’

‘She won’t come,’ said Arenadd. ‘She sent me instead.’

‘Why?’ asked Red.

‘Well, she said it’s because you’re a Southerner,’ said Arenadd. ‘But...’ he frowned.

‘But?’ Red prompted.

Arenadd lowered his voice. ‘Just between you and me, I think she’s staying away because she’s afraid of you.’

‘Afraid?’ Red repeated. ‘Why? What could I do to her?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Arenadd. ‘But you are very powerful. I shall have to think about that. There’s not much else to do in the void, you know. Just thinking and watching the affairs of the living.’

Red eyed him. ‘I’ve seen you before,’ he said. ‘Haven’t I? When the Hangman got me, that was you I saw. I felt your hands draggin’ me away into the void. An’ then when I died in Amoran...’

‘Yes, that was me,’ said Arenadd. ‘I came for your soul. I come for everyone’s soul.’

‘But I’m a Southerner,’ said Red. ‘My soul should go with Gryphus.’

‘Gryphus?’ Arenadd snorted. ‘He doesn’t have anything to do with the dead – that’s my master’s business. And mine too now.’ He smiled humourlessly. ‘All men, you see, are equal, Kearney Redguard. We’re born equal and we die equal. The gods favour no-one.’

‘Seems neither of ’em want anything to do with me nowadays,’ Red muttered. ‘I can’t go in Gryphus’ temples any more, an’ the Night God won’t come see me either.’

‘Good!’ said Arenadd. ‘Consider yourself lucky. Your lot’s going to be complicated enough without them interfering. Trust me, boy, you want nothing to do with the gods.’

Red eyed him. ‘An’ what about you? Whose side are you on?’

‘Me?’ Arenadd looked up at the starry sky. ‘Nobody’s side except my own. Do you have anything you really need to know before you go? We can’t stand here and chatter forever. If you’re lucky, I might even tell you something useful. I do know a lot.’ His mouth tightened. ‘More than I really want to, come to that.’

Red thought quickly. ‘Can I die?’ he asked.

‘You already did, you blockhead,’ Arenadd said impatiently.

‘I mean can I die properly,’ Red snapped back. ‘Can I be killed?’

‘Yes, you can,’ said Arenadd. ‘My children put paid to Saeddryn, didn’t they? You’ll just have to hope Caedmon doesn’t know how they did it. If not, then as far as I know you’ll live forever. You won’t age, you can’t get sick, injuries can put you down for a while if they’re bad enough but they’ll heal fast. Try not to get too attached to anyone – if you’re sensible you’ll outlive them all. Oh... and don’t fall in love.’

Red frowned. ‘What?’

‘Well, all right, if you really must, go ahead and fall into some woman’s arms,’ said Arenadd. ‘Or some man’s if that’s your thing. But you’d better not let it go any further than that. If you bed any woman, she’ll die. I don’t know about men. But unless you’re celibate, you’ll kill people. You’re deadly, all right – even your cock can kill.’

Red winced. ‘Really?’

‘And you thought the pox was bad,’ said Arenadd. He nodded. ‘Goodbye.’

‘Wait!’ Red took a step towards him. ‘What should I do?’

Arenadd shrugged again. ‘Whatever you think is right. Whatever your heart tells you to do. You still have one, you know. Just not a very good one. But you have one. Now, go back.’ He inclined his head. ‘Maybe you’ll see me again some day – pray that you do, Kearney Redguard.’

He vanished.

*

Red blinked again, and the Temple returned. He looked around, confused – he was still standing by the altar, and nothing had changed.

In front of him, the High Priestess’ corpse slid off Teressa and thumped onto the floor. Behind him, screams split the air as Orak and Kraego charged back and forth, scattering and killing the assembled worshippers.

Red quickly shook off his confusion, and stepped forward to where Teressa waited. He sheathed his sword, and wrenched the chains off her with his bare hands. The moment she was free she rolled straight off the altar and threw herself against him.

Red put a protective arm around her, and turned to look at the chaos in the Temple. Not many people were left.

‘Stop!’ Red roared.

Kraego and Orak hesitated, and loped towards him. Of the people left in the Temple, some of those who were still alive had pressed themselves against the walls or dived behind pillars for some semblance of shelter. Others lay on the floor, injured or dying.

Red stood tall and glared at them, while Kraego came to stand beside him and Orak went to check on his human.

‘I’m the Shadow That Walks!’ he shouted, the words echoing in the great stone space.

Silence fell.

‘My name is Kearney Redguard,’ Red added. ‘I’m a Southerner, an’ proud of it! I’m also the Shadow That Walks, an’ this is Kraego, son of Skandar, who brought me back!’

‘I am Kraego!’ Kraego screeched. ‘I am the dark griffin, and my human is Kraeai kran ae!’

‘It’s true!’ Teressa said suddenly. ‘This is the Shadow That Walks! I follow him, and he come to save me, just as I said he would. If ye are true Northerners, then ye must follow him too! It’s our sacred duty.’

‘Liar!’ one man bravely shouted back. ‘A Southerner can’t be the Shadow That Walks!’

‘Believe it, you blackrobe son of a bitch,’ Red growled, and twisted sideways into the shadows.

He thought he heard a new wave of screams as he vanished.

*

Red didn’t like using the shadows, and he didn’t go far with them. Just out into the city and away, far enough to reach a quiet spot where he and the two griffins might not be noticed. Besides, he didn’t want to drag Teressa too far with him – it had been bad for him when he was alive, and it would be bad for her too.

Once they were out again, he took his tunic off and quietly offered it to the shivering Northerner.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘I don’t feel the cold much any more.’

Teressa clutched it, but didn’t put it on. For a moment she just stood there staring at it, and then she suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder and kissed him full on the mouth.

Red let her do it, but then he gently pushed her away. ‘Don’t,’ he said.

Teressa started to sob. ‘Ye saved me,’ she said. ‘I, I swear, master... Red, I—’

Red wrapped the tunic around her, and held her, though he doubted his cold body would give her much comfort. ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘Teressa, it’s all right. Breathe deep an’ be brave.’

She shuddered against him. ‘I swear,’ she said. ‘I swear I’ll never worship the Night God again.’

‘I ain’t surprised!’ said Red, trying to sound irreverent to cheer her up. ‘After they nearly... but it’s all right now. You’re safe.’

‘Ye came for me,’ said Teressa.

‘’Course I did,’ said Red. ‘I told you, didn’t I? I said if you’re in trouble, send me a message an’ I’ll come. Well you did, an’ I did. Them friends of yours, Anfri an’ whats-her-name, they came to Monag an’ they told me about you gettin’ arrested. So me an’ Kraego went right away to get you out.’

‘I prayed to ye,’ said Teressa. ‘I prayed to the Night God, and Arenadd, and to ye. But it was ye who answered my prayers. It’s ye I follow now, Red. It’s ye I worship.’

‘Well don’t,’ Red said shortly. ‘I ain’t a god an’ I didn’t hear no prayers. Now let’s get out of here.’

Teressa looked troubled. ‘If ye ask me not to worship ye, then... then I’ll worship nothing.’

‘It’d be a good idea,’ said Red. He looked up. ‘Kraego!’

Kraego and Orak came hurrying up, and Orak went straight to Teressa. ‘My human,’ the grey griffin said urgently. ‘Are you hurt?’

Teressa let go of Red and went to him. ‘No. I’m fine, Orak. Thank ye for coming for me.’

‘Of course I came for you,’ said Orak, a little irritably. ‘You are my human. I waited outside the city, searching for an opportunity to get you back. Kraego found me, and I went with him. Together, we were strong enough. Now come – we must leave the city at once.’

Teressa took several deep breaths, and finally put Red’s tunic on. ‘Yes... we should go.’

Red hauled himself onto Kraego’s back. ‘Follow us,’ he said. ‘We won’t use the shadows. We’re goin’ the old-fashioned way.’

Teressa got onto Orak’s back, and clung on, shivering, as the grey griffin took to the air. She wouldn’t last long in flight without proper clothes. But for now it was more important to escape, and fast, before other griffins came in pursuit.

And besides... for now the cold didn’t matter. It was a sensation, and for a while she had thought she would never feel anything again. Now she savoured it, and as the two griffins flew out of Malvern together, one just behind the other, she looked ahead and let her gaze settle on Red.

I shouldn’t have kissed him, she thought.

It had been stupidity of the first order. He wasn’t some mortal man to be embraced; he was the Shadow That Walked. He was above her, beyond her; he was an immortal, and alone in that respect – unreachable by any ordinary human, and no mortal would be worthy of him.

She supposed she had done what she had done on a mad impulse more than anything else. He’d saved her life, and the sight of him had filled her with so much joy that she couldn’t contain herself. He wasn’t just her master; he was her saviour. A saviour who didn’t want the awe and worship he deserved.

She thought about it obsessively during the long, cold flight that followed, maybe partly as a way to distract herself from the shock starting to close in on her mind. Her heart pattered frantically, and terror tinged around the edges of her mind. Part of her wanted to panic. But if she did that now, she might fall to her death.

She forced herself to think of other things instead, hoping to push the fear away by considering ways of repaying Red for what he had done for her.  Her attempts to honour him like the holy man he was only seemed to confuse and annoy him, so therefore she would honour him in a way that didn’t bother him so much.

But how? He seemed to value honesty, not worship. Honesty, courage, loyalty and strength. But were these things that she had, or could have? Hadn’t she already lied to him, by not telling him everything she was going to do in the North? And hadn’t she shown that she was weak, by being captured and needing to be rescued?

No... she had lied, and so proven that she did not have honesty or true loyalty. And by forcing him to rescue her, she had shown that she did not have courage or strength either.

But I will! she told herself fiercely. She was a Northerner, a true full-blooded Northerner, and every Northerner was a warrior somewhere deep inside. She would show him that Northerners weren’t cowards or liars, or traitors, the way some in the South said they were. She would prove that she could be as brave as him.

That’s what I’ll do, then, she thought.

In that moment, she made her decision.

In the Temple they had taken away her silver robe, and she would take that as a sign. From now on, she would no longer be a priestess of the Night God. From now on she would worship the Shadow That Walked alone, and be what he needed her to be.

There was a war coming, and he didn’t need a priestess for that; he needed fighters. Warriors.

So that was what she would be. She would learn how to fight like a true Northern warrior, and she would fight loyally by his side until she was dead, or until victory was his. She would ask him to teach her, or, if not him, Anfri or some other Northerner who knew fighting would teach her.

She would not disappoint Red again. She would earn his respect, and repay her debt to him.

Teressa’s black eyes narrowed, and she set her jaw as ferociously as she could.

‘Never,’ she whispered aloud, the words lost in the wind. ‘Never again.’

*

Red had made a camp in a clearing just outside the walls of Malvern, in a patch of forest left there by royal decree. There was a small stream not far away, and an empty fireplace set up. Teressa sat down beside it, shivering. ‘We shouldn’t stay here for too long. They’ll come searching.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ said Red. He retrieved the bag he’d left hanging from a tree branch, and fished out a flint and tinder. After a few tries he managed to get the fire lit, and he passed the bag to Teressa. ‘There’s some food and stuff in there. I’m gonna nip back into the city and get you something to wear, okay?’

Teressa held her hands out over the fire to warm them. ‘Be careful, Red.’

Red patted her awkwardly. ‘I don’t need to be careful – I got the shadows now. You just rest. C’mon, Kraego.’

The black griffin stretched. ‘We will not be gone for long. Orak, wait for us.’

Orak shuffled closer to his human. ‘I shall.’

Red climbed onto Kraego’s back, and the black griffin took flight – off into the sky, and the shadows as well. Both of them knew where they were going, and this time neither one of them needed to leave the shadows.

Red left Kraego waiting in the main square by the statue of Arenadd and Skandar, and slipped off into the temple, which was still in a state of chaos. From there it was easy enough to follow Teressa’s scent, and that led him to a back room. There were stars painted on the ceiling here, and a wardrobe, and inside it he found what he was after.

Red slung it on his back and returned to Kraego’s side, still invisible, his mind still full of the vision he had had. Arenadd... the Dark Lord Arenadd. He’d spoken to him. And after everything Red had been told about him, he’d been nothing like what he would have expected. He hadn’t seemed bloodthirsty or cruel to him, or evil. All Red had seen was haughty rudeness and sarcasm – and something else.

Red frowned as he got back onto Kraego. Had there been something else hidden in Arenadd’s face and voice? He concentrated on the memory, knowing it was important. He’d interrogated witnesses and accused criminals, and he knew how it worked. You had to know when someone was hiding something, when they were lying – what they were holding back. And Arenadd had been hiding something, he was certain of it.

But what?

Kraego returned to the light, landing neatly and silently in the clearing where the fire was still burning. Red jumped down, and looked around for Teressa. She wasn’t there, and neither was Orak.

‘Damn – where’d they go?’ Red put the bag down. ‘Hang on Kraego. I’ll be back.’

Kraego huffed and lay down by the fire, and Red sniffed the air. He could smell both Teressa and Orak, and he relaxed a bit when he realised they weren’t far away. He headed off in their direction.

The moon was still bright, and its light shone on the waters of the stream, on the other side of a birch thicket. Orak was there, silently keeping watch, and there was Teressa.

She was in the water, though it must have been freezing, and Red’s lucky tunic hung on a branch nearby. Teressa had her back to him, and she was busy washing herself, scrubbing furiously at her skin with handfuls of sand.

Red paused, embarrassed, and started to turn away – but he couldn’t help but linger for a moment longer, just watching her. She was pale and slender, curiously graceful in her nakedness, her true form revealed now the flowing priestess’ robe was gone. The painted spirals were coming away from her skin, blue-tinted water dripping from her hands, but to Red’s surprise he saw that there were other marks on her; thin spiralling patterns, also in blue, traced down her back. And these spirals did not wash away.

Feeling very guilty now, Red silently turned away and returned to the campfire. He didn’t bother to try and warm his hands over it – he already knew that wouldn’t work. Forbidden thoughts crossed his mind, and he found himself remembering Lady Ahamay, and how she had moved against him, so warm and alive.

‘Gods,’ Red muttered. He remembered Arenadd’s warning and knew, right then and there, that the traitorous Erebian would now be the last woman he’d ever touch. And maybe Teressa would be the last ever to kiss or embrace him.

A slow, quiet acceptance came over him. He would be alone, he knew. Alone forever. Nobody would ever touch him again, not really. That was what it meant to be the Shadow That Walked.

Teressa came back into the clearing, the tunic wrapped around her. Her hair was dripping. ‘Red,’ she said. ‘What is it?’

He looked up. ‘Hrm?’

Teressa sat down beside him, and touched his forearm. ‘Ye look so sad.’

Red rubbed his eyes, and picked up the bag. ‘It’s nothing. Here, I got this back.’

She opened it, and examined the contents with obvious surprise. ‘My things – where were they?’

‘In yer old room. Don’t ask me why.’

Teressa dragged out the spare robe. ‘Thank ye, Red.’

Red accepted his tunic back from her. ‘It’s nothing,’ he said gruffly. He looked away politely, but couldn’t stop himself from asking, ‘What are those marks on your back? The spirals?’

There was a rustle of cloth from behind him. ‘Ye mean the tattoos?’

‘Yeah. They remind me of Caedmon’s a bit.’

‘Every Northerner takes the tattoos when they’re old enough,’ said Teressa. ‘It’s part of the adulthood ceremony. Mine were put on me in the Temple.’ She sighed. ‘I’m finished.’

Red turned around. ‘Reminds me of when I got my guard tattoo,’ he said. ‘I reckon that was the day I became a man.’

Teressa looked up at him. ‘How old were ye?’

‘Sixteen. You?’

She smiled. ‘Sixteen.’ The smile disappeared. ‘I can never go back now. That place was my home. The priestesses were my family. And now...’

Red wanted to put an arm around her shoulders, but a sudden pang at his heart held him back. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know. The guards were my family, and they tried to kill me too. But at least yer safe now, right?’

‘Aye,’ said Teressa. ‘Ye saved me, Red. And... and I suppose ye and I will find a place to live when this is over.’

Again, Red stopped himself from touching her. ‘Liranwee,’ he said, throat tight. ‘When this is over I’ll give you a home there. I promise. You’ll like it there. I built that city, and it’s where I’ll always belong.’

Teressa moved closer to him – he could feel her warmth, hear her heart. ‘Tell me about it,’ she said. ‘I want to know everything.’

Red smiled sadly. ‘Liranwee,’ he murmured. ‘It’s the greatest city in the South. It’s where we’ll all go in the end – I know it.’

‘Aye,’ said Teressa. ‘We will.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Strike Again

S

everal tense weeks passed in Liranwee, while Caedmon waited.

Caradoc stayed by his father’s side all that time, though some had suggested he should be sent away to some secret location, or maybe even all the way to Amoran. But the King had been definite about that.

‘He’s my son, and I won’t have anyone else protect him,’ he said. ‘Even from the Shadow That Walks.’

There was no point in lying about that any longer. Caedmon could have kept the encounter with Red a secret, but he had spread the word instead, warning his followers that they had a dangerous new enemy. And when word came from Malvern about the massacre in the Temple, the rumours of a new Shadow That Walked changed from suspicion to solid fact.

People came to see Caedmon then. Other griffiners, mostly. They came demanding explanations, looking for guidance. They were afraid; Caradoc could see it as easily as his father did.

‘Stay alert,’ Caedmon told them. ‘Watch for signs. Feelings of coldness and unease. Animals panicking.’

‘But then what?’ the Master of War asked when he heard this. ‘If we know he’s there, what do we do about it?’

Caedmon tried to answer that, but his answers weren’t what he wished they could be. Don’t panic. Try and find a sunwheel; it might scare him. Light every candle you’ve got so there aren’t as many shadows for him to hide in. Stay close to your partner.

It wouldn’t do much, and he knew it. So did they, most likely. But what else could he possibly tell them?

‘My mother was the Shadow That Walks, remember?’ he told Caradoc one day. ‘You know that.’

Caradoc nodded. ‘She was meant to kill Laela Half-Breed so you could be King.’

‘Yes,’ said Caedmon. ‘But not many of us like to admit that she failed. Nobody wants to admit that someone like her could fail, but she did. The half-breed tricked her, and killed her. In the end, it was up to me to win the throne myself, when even the Shadow That Walked had failed.’

Caradoc looked even more scared then, but Caedmon shook his head. ‘No, son, it’s a good thing, don’t you see? What happened to my mother was terrible, but it’s proof that the Shadow That Walks can fail, and can be killed. If she could fail, then this Southern pretender can fail as well. And I think he’s more likely to. My mother was a great warrior even when she was alive, but this man, this Kearney Redguard – you and I know him already, don’t we? We met him before we first came here, when Morgan took him prisoner. And we know he’s stupid. Remember, Caradoc? Just a stupid Southerner. He might have the power now, but he won’t know what to do with it.’

Caradoc looked a little happier. ‘But how do we stop him?’

‘Simple,’ said Caedmon. ‘We trick him. Trap him. He can’t go into the shadows once we have him chained. And then once we have him we can work out a way to kill him. Remember, son: we’re smarter than him. And he can’t stop a whole army by himself. We’ve got our people, and the Unpartnered, and we have the Amoranis as well, don’t we?’

Caradoc nodded. ‘You said they helped the half-breed kill Grandma Saeddryn. They can help us too, can’t they?’

‘I’m sure they can,’ said Caedmon.

And then, days later, the Amoranis were gone.

A man came to see the King – a griffiner, who had flown all the way from Withypool. He was an Amorani, an offsider of the Prince who had gone back to Amoran for his father’s birthday some time ago, and in very little time after his arrival in Liranwee he was allowed in to see the King.

Once the two griffins had greeted each other, the Amorani man bowed politely to Caedmon.

‘Sire,’ he said. ‘There is news.’

‘Yes?’ Caedmon prompted.

The man looked uncomfortable. ‘We are leaving. My people and I must return to Amoran at once.’

‘Why?’ Caedmon asked sharply. ‘The Emperor and I had an agreement, and that agreement stays in effect until the war is finished.’

‘That is understood,’ said the man. ‘But something has changed. The order to return does not come from the Emperor, but from his successor.’

‘Successor?’ said Caedmon. ‘You mean the Emperor—?’

‘Dead,’ said the man. ‘Assassinated by an Erebian spy, along with all his closest relatives. But one grandchild remains and has been made Empress-elect. She has commanded us to leave Cymria at once and to have no more dealings with you and your people.’

Caedmon muttered a Northern swearword. ‘Twllt din! The agreement with the Emperor should still apply to this successor. I demand an explanation.’

‘I am sorry,’ said the Amorani. ‘But no explanation has been given. I can only repeat what the Empress-elect has commanded, and I am forbidden to disobey her on pain of death. But if you have a message for her in return, I have been asked to deliver it to her.’

‘Can your people stay here until the matter is resolved?’ asked Caedmon.

‘No, Sire. We must withdraw immediately and return to Amoran, or I and my fellow commanders will be sentenced to death.’

‘Understood,’ Caedmon said curtly. ‘Stay here in Liranwee until my message is ready for you to take. I should have it for you by tomorrow.’

‘Yes, Sire.’ The Amorani bowed and left.

Caedmon swore again after he had gone. ‘Coc y gath!’

‘This is not good,’ Shar said unnecessarily.

‘Oh really?’ Caedmon snapped back. ‘Do you have any idea how perilous things are going to be here with the Amoranis gone?’

‘It does not matter,’ said Shar. ‘We have the Southerners beaten.’

‘And without the Amoranis, they outnumber us ten to one,’ said Caedmon. ‘Do you know what would happen if they banded together? We wouldn’t stand a chance.’

‘But they cannot,’ said Shar. ‘Surely... you and I both know that the Southern humans have never been together as one people – they have always been in separate territories. When you and I were youngsters they fought against each other.’

‘But they won’t now,’ said Caedmon. ‘Not now. Not when we’ve given them a common enemy. All they need now is a leader, and we both know who that could well be.’

‘Kraeai kran ae,’ Shar hissed. ‘But you do not think that Southerners would follow the cursed one? He may be one of them, but his powers belong to the North, and they have always hated and feared the one who carries them.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he could make them change their minds soon enough,’ said Caedmon. ‘With this thing in Malvern, rescuing that traitor priestess – all it would take is a few more exploits like that to bring them around.’

‘Then what do you suggest?’ said Shar. ‘If you kill him then, that may only inspire them.’

‘Yes... we can’t afford to create a martyr,’ said Caedmon. ‘We have to kill him before they start seeing him as a hero – if they don’t already. We don’t know enough about him yet to be certain. And if not... then we’ll have to find a way to change the way they see him, won’t we? If they love him, then we’ll find a way to make them hate him. Yes...’ he frowned to himself, as the idea matured in his mind.

‘Yes, we’ll find a way. One way or another. This Red thinks he can be a hero after what he’s become, but I’ll make another Dark Lord of him. I’ll turn his own people on him, and if I do it well enough they might even give him to me themselves.’

‘He will still be powerful,’ Shar pointed out.

‘But he can’t fight this battle alone,’ said Caedmon. ‘Without followers, he’ll fail. And he will. I’ll see to it personally.’ He glanced over at Caradoc, who had sat there by Ereska’s side and listened to it all in silence. ‘For our future.’

‘If you wish to do this, you must find him first,’ Shar observed.

‘And I will,’ said Caedmon. ‘That part will be simple enough.’

And it would be. All of them already knew that.

Two days later, the visitors all four of them had been waiting for finally arrived.

Caedmon came hurrying to the Eyrie rooftop as the spotted griffin landed, with Shar, Caradoc and Ereska close by.

Echo landed as nimbly as always, and crouched low to let his partner dismount.

Morgan, though, did not have much grace left. He climbed down clumsily, and his bow to his King was a little stiff.

Caedmon helped him up, and greeted him with a hug. ‘Morgan.’

Morgan gave him a quick hug back. ‘Sire. Sorry it took me so long.’

‘It’s fine, Morgan,’ Caedmon said gruffly. ‘How are you?’

Morgan didn’t answer that question, but all of them could see how different he looked now. He had healed from what had happened to him, more or less, but even Caradoc knew that he would never be the same again.

His face was scarred now, and one arm had a twist. He walked with a limp, and the rope had left a permanent mark on his throat. But scars on the body were one thing. They could be ugly, but they were only what could be seen on the outside.

Morgan had scars on his soul now, and they showed in his eyes, and his voice, and the bitter lines around his mouth.

‘What do you need me to do, Sire?’ he asked.

‘Come on,’ said Caedmon, with surprising gentleness. ‘Come inside and have something to eat. You too, Echo. Caradoc!’ he added more sharply. ‘Come here and say something to your brother.’

Caradoc came over, a little timid. ‘Hello, Morgan. Does your arm hurt badly today?’

Morgan finally smiled, and ruffled the boy’s hair. ‘Not so badly, Caradoc. It’s good to see you again.’

‘I’m glad you didn’t die,’ Caradoc said, very solemn.

‘So am I,’ said Morgan. He sighed. ‘So am I.’

Inside, the three humans sat down together and shared some food. The griffins stayed close by and conversed amongst themselves in rapid griffish.

‘Morgan,’ Caedmon said. ‘I’m so sorry. What happened to you – if I could have done something...’

‘It’s all right,’ said Morgan. ‘I know whose fault it was, and it wasn’t yours.’

‘Yes, well, those people from New Eagleholm – but now they’ve paid the price, haven’t they?’ said Caedmon.

Morgan’s mouth thinned. ‘They have. I left Arwydd in charge. She can handle it.’

‘Oh yes.’ Caedmon smiled. ‘How is she? It was touching to see how well she looked after you.’

‘I want to marry her,’ Morgan said baldly. ‘She asked me before I left, and I said yes.’

‘Excellent!’ said Caedmon. ‘I’m happy for you, Morgan – you take good care of her. I’m sure you will.’

‘I will,’ said Morgan. ‘But now will you tell me what you want me to do?’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Caedmon. ‘But it won’t be easy, and you may not want to do it. I hate asking you after what you’ve already gone through on my behalf, and if you don’t want to do this then you have my permission to say no.’

‘That depends,’ said Morgan. ‘What is it?’

‘We have a rat that needs catching,’ said Caedmon. ‘A red one.’

Morgan listened in silence while his master explained. His expression barely flickered.

‘I know the Shadows That Walk,’ Caedmon said afterwards. ‘I know how they think. The Night God is supposed to give each one a mission, but with this one, I doubt she spoke to him at all. So that only leaves his own desires. No doubt he wants to chase us out of the South, but he’ll want one other thing, won’t he? Every Shadow That Walks does.’

‘Revenge,’ Morgan said softly.

‘Yes. Revenge on the ones he blames for his death. I don’t know how he died, but I’m sure he blames me. But more than me, he’ll blame you. We both know what happened between you two, and we know what he said to you while we had him locked up.’

Morgan sighed. ‘He looked me in the eye and said he was going to kill me one day. He promised it.’

‘Exactly,’ said Caedmon. ‘And that’s why you’re the one who’s going to catch him. He hates me, but he hates you more, and he’ll go anywhere he has to if he thinks he might find you there.’ He glanced at Caradoc. ‘And you know what he’s threatened to do. The longer we can keep him away from my son, the better. So if you’re afraid of taking this on, think of that.’

‘I understand,’ said Morgan.

‘And I do as well,’ said Echo. ‘Shar has explained it to me. It would be our glory to bring this red rat down.’

‘And the griffin as well,’ said Caedmon. ‘This Kraego.’

‘It will be your task to finish him, Eck-hoo,’ said Shar. ‘The human may be immortal, but Kraego is not. Remember my promise, spotted griffin.’

‘I do,’ said Echo. ‘I have never forgotten it, Shar.’ He flicked his tail. ‘I will fight the dark griffin, and I will kill him for you.’

‘He might be too strong for you, Echo,’ said Morgan.

‘But I will defeat him by cunning,’ said Echo. ‘It has always been my greatest weapon. This Kraego will be a mindless brute like his father. But I am as sly as a human, yes?’

‘You are,’ Morgan smiled.

‘So that is how it will be,’ Echo finished. ‘I shall kill Kraego, and you will capture the red human, or see to it that he is disgraced in the eyes of his kind. Either way, he will be unpartnered and unfit to lead others.’

‘Exactly,’ said Caedmon. He inclined his head towards Morgan with respect. ‘You’ve sacrificed a lot for your country, Morgan, and no matter what happens, you’ll be honoured for it. I’ll see to it that a statue of you goes next to the one of your brother in Malvern. That’s a promise.’

‘No,’ Morgan said coldly. ‘Put it in Liranwee. Soon enough it’ll be our new capital, won’t it?’

‘Yes,’ said Caedmon. ‘Yes, it will be. The greatest city in the South.’

––––––––

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Drinks with Friends

A

fter a long and sometimes fraught journey back through the South, Red, Kraego, Orak and Teressa arrived back in Monag.

Not much had changed while they were gone, but Anfri and his fellow Northerners had been joined by several more that had arrived during Red’s absence. All of them gathered to meet Teressa, and Red watched with some surprise while they bowed respectfully to her and greeted her in their own language.

‘We thought ye must have died,’ one said.

‘I came close,’ said Teressa, speaking Cymrian for Red’s benefit. ‘But the Shadow That Walks saved me. Just as I knew he would,’ she added with a smile.

All of them looked at Red, some with puzzlement, but all with awe.

‘I had some doubts, I admit it,’ said Anfri. ‘But you saved Teressa’s life. That’s all the proof I needed that you’re on our side.’

Red sensed that something needed to be said here, not just to Anfri but for everyone listening.

‘I’m on the side of anyone who tries to do what’s right,’ he said. ‘Northerner, Southerner, griffin, Amorani – there’s no difference to me when all’s said an’ done. I dunno much about being the Shadow That Walks, or not yet, but I do know that what the King’s doing is wrong. He’s got no right to come an’ take our land from us, or sell us like meat in the marketplace. I know us Southerners did the same to you once, but that was a long time ago.’

His tone turned sombre, and he continued. ‘I knew a man once, or a kind of man. His name was Kullervo. He’s dead now, but I won’t forget what he told me. He said “the past is dead an’ gone. What matters is makin’ the future better.”

‘That’s what I’m gonna try an’ do. I ain’t gonna conquer the North, or kill the King unless I have to.’

The Northerners looked relieved.

‘All I want to do is save the South,’ said Red. ‘An’ put a stop to this war. Anyone who wants to help me do that is welcome.’

‘And we will,’ said Teressa. ‘We’ll help ye.’

‘We will!’ Anfri said hastily, while his friends murmured agreement.

‘Right then,’ said Red. ‘Now that’s been sorted out, let’s go relax. I dunno about you, but I could use a drink.’

‘We’ll go to the main dining hall straight away, sir,’ said Anfri.

‘Nah,’ said Red. He smiled at Kraego. ‘I might be a griffiner now, an’ the Shadow That Walks an’ all that other stuff, but at heart I’m still just a city guard. I’m goin’ to the pub. Come join me if you want.’

They looked puzzled, but Teressa laughed.

‘I’ll come!’ she said. ‘I’ll tell the others, too.’

Kraego snorted his irritation, but said nothing.

There was a pub in Monag, as it turned out – just one, with the unlikely name of The Surly Griffin. It featured a scowling griffin on the sign, who for some reason had green feathers.

‘Never mind, as long as it’s got halfway decent beer,’ Red said cheerfully.

Quite a few people from the Eyrie chose to join him – humans, of course; very few normal buildings had room for even one griffin.

Red took up a handy table, and others came to sit around him; Teressa and Anfri, Liantha, Neth, even Isleen and Alaric, the latter looking a little bruised but proud.

Red had managed to scrounge some money on the journey back, and he used it to buy a round of drinks.

‘Doesn’t matter what you asked for, they’ve only got beer an’ the other beer,’ he said over the chatter of the other drinkers.

They made an odd group: Northerners, Southerners, guards, griffiners, nobles and commoners. But they sat together around Red and toasted each other – hesitantly, but with growing sincerity.

‘To the South! To victory! To the Shadow That Walks and the dark griffin!’

‘Damn right!’ Red roared, and drank deeply.

They took turns buying rounds, and Red saw to it that everyone finished what they took.

‘This is how you do it, see?’ he said after the first few. ‘This is how you make friends the easy way. A nice pub, a few beers, an’ no pretentions or trappings in the way.’

He told stories, too, and so did the others, taking turns to talk about their lives.

Red talked about Kullervo, and Amoran, and Teressa talked about life as a priestess. Liantha talked about her childhood growing up in the ruins of Old Eagleholm, and her foster-father, Roland the hatchery keeper.

‘He was the wisest, kindest man I ever met,’ she said.

‘Me too,’ said Red. ‘Almost. There was only one other I knew.’

‘Aye, so there was,’ said Teressa.

Red raised his mug. ‘To Kullervo Taranisäii,’ he said. ‘The best man I ever met. You ain’t gonna be forgotten, Kullervo. No matter what.’

‘Never!’ Isleen agreed. ‘Not in Amoran, and not here.’

‘To Kullervo!’ the others echoed. ‘Kullervo the man-griffin!’

After things had quietened down, Red turned to Teressa. ‘I wish you could’ve met him properly,’ he said.

‘So do I,’ said Teressa. ‘But at least I saw him once.’

‘Yeah...’ Red said slowly. ‘That reminds me.’

‘Yes?’ said Teressa.

‘I nearly forgot. But what did he tell you before he died? Will you tell me now?’

Teressa hesitated.

‘Well?’ said Red.

So she told him. She told him what Kullervo had said, and how she had acted on his words by finding first the heart, and then Arenadd’s body. Red listened in astonishment.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said afterward. ‘I should never have done it without asking ye. I never stopped blaming myself.’

‘But you say he wouldn’t wake up?’ said Red.

Teressa shook her head. ‘I tried everything. His body was there, and it was breathing, but...’

‘...nobody at home,’ said Red. ‘I know it.’

‘How?’ asked Teressa.

‘I saw him,’ said Red. ‘In the Temple. See, you ain’t the only one who kept things back. I tried to stop the sacrifice, but I ended up bein’ the one to do it. The High Priestess died instead of you, but it still counted. An’ then I saw him. I had a vision.’

Teressa tensed. ‘What was it like? What was he like?’

Red described it to her, as well as he could remember. ‘See?’ he finished. ‘You’ve fixed his body up, but he ain’t in it. He’s in the void still, with his master.’

‘Then why?’ said Teressa. ‘Why send me to do that?’

‘Maybe he’s hopin’ to escape,’ said Red. ‘An’ he wanted to make sure there was a body for him when he did. Eh? Why else?’

‘If he comes back, he’ll be on our side,’ said Teressa. ‘I’m sure of it. He wanted me to join ye, didn’t he?’

‘I asked him whose side he was on,’ said Red. ‘He said he was on his own side. He also said I might see him again one day, an’ I should hope so. Dunno what he meant by that. I don’t reckon he’d help us, Teressa. I dunno what he wants to do. But he wants to come back, I’m sure of it.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Teressa said again. ‘I should have said something, I should have realised...’

‘Yeah, well.’ Red stared into his beer. ‘Ain’t you heard the stories, Teressa? Us Dark Lords always rise again.

Other Books By K.J. Taylor

The Price of Magic

Broken Prophecy

The Drachengott

Wind

Earth

Fire

Water

The Fallen Moon

The Dark Griffin

The Griffin’s Flight

The Griffin’s War

The Risen Sun

The Shadow’s Heir

The Shadowed Throne

The Shadow’s Heart

The Southern Star

The Last Guard

The Silent Guard

The Cursed Guard

The Land of Bad Fantasy