James Clemens - Shadowfall

Eylan glanced to the two girls, then nodded. The others had already sunk down and leaned against the wall, seeking some shelter from the wind and rain.

Tylar glanced to Kathryn. She nodded her readiness.

They set off down a gravel path, bordered by hedges and pocked with dancing pools of rainwater. They moved swiftly, falling into an easy rhythm, as if this were any rainy night and they were returning from some engagement together. Still, Kathryn fingered her diadem, the symbol of her station. It might be all that stood between them and a sword through the heart.

She glanced to Tylar, eyes shining with powers drawn from the shadows. There were words behind that gaze.

Tylar feared for them to be spoken aloud and turned away.

He gripped his sword. Its hilt remained warm, flowing to fit his fingers, throbbing slightly under his palm like a heartbeat. He stared down at it. What was he carrying? What was this Godsword?

Lightning crackled brilliantly, drawing his attention. The gardens flashed in stark silver. Darkness shifted. A shadowy shape rose, as if from the path itself, blocking them. A sword threatened.

“Hold!” Kathryn boomed out.

Tylar jumped, surprised at her firm authority.

The knight’s sword lowered slightly.

“I am Castellan Vail,” she continued, not letting the other collect himself. “Take me to your foreknight or whoever’s in charge.”

The sword lowered farther.

But before more could be managed, a deep growl erupted from the left. Something huge ripped through a thorny tangle of elderwytch.

Ilk-beast.

Tylar flew back, sword ready.

It crashed through the neighboring hedgerow, thrusting right through it, hardly slowing. Nothing could be discerned but its dark muscled bulk.

Tylar lunged out with his sword. No matter its size, the Godsword would surely kill it. But before he could strike, a clang of steel knocked his sword high.

Caught by surprise, Tylar stumbled.

Lightning burst overhead, revealing the beast, limned in silver. It was a steaming, slavering monster-but a familiar monster.

“Barrin!” Kathryn called.

The bullhound skidded to a stop, paws sliding in the mud. Its tongue, as wide as a hearthside rug, lolled out. Its rear end wiggled with all the enthusiasm of its stumped tail.

The knight who had blocked Tylar’s sword shed his shadows. He reached to his masklin and let it drop.

“Krevan,” Tylar said, relieved.

The other knight on the path stepped nearer. It was Krevan’s right-hand man, the older knight, Corram.

Kathryn joined them. “I don’t understand.”

“Come see,” Krevan said.

He walked them through the ruined hedge. The view opened again. The smoking flippercraft was a mountain to the right, but an arrow’s shot ahead rose the castillion. Its battlements still glowed with torches, as did the terraces and windows. It blazed in the stormy gloom.

In the bright illumination, Shadowknights swept along parapets and flew from terraces down to the garden grounds. The dark wave struck the mass of ilk-beasts in the gardens. Wails and shrieks erupted. A pitched battle began.

“More knights still come by windmares,” Krevan assured them. He turned to Tylar. “We come to aid the godslayer.”

“How… the Warden… the Fiery Cross…?” Kathryn seemed unable to rein in her thoughts. She waved at the other flippercrafts and their flags.

Tylar frowned, no less confused.

“Warden Fields was convinced to listen,” Krevan said. The knight lifted his sword, Serpentfang. “Even someone as well regarded as Argent ser Fields is no match for the Raven Knight returned.” This last was spoken sourly.

Tylar stared up at the flippercrafts. Krevan must have used his notoriety to sway Tashijan to his cause. There must certainly be more story to tell, but it would have to wait.

On the far side of the gardens, screams pierced the low thunder, rising from both beast and knight.

“While we were flying here, a raven arrived from Lord Chrism,” Krevan said. “He warned of a curse that had transformed his troops into monstrous beasts. He claimed the guards were still loyal. Only their appearances had been altered by the curse. A curse placed upon him by the godslayer… and some daemon child.”

“No daemon,” a voice said behind them. Rogger stepped out of hiding. Plainly the thief had been trailing after them, abandoning his hiding place. He waved an arm, and the others appeared, too.

Tylar frowned at them all.

Rogger placed an arm around Dart. “She’s more like a god, actually. A very tiny god.”

Dart stared, gaping at the massive bullhound. It looked capable of swallowing her in one bite.

Krevan’s brow bunched. He studied the group for answers.

“There’s too much to tell,” Tylar said. “First, we must reach Chrism.”

“I have enough men and women to form a phalanx,” Krevan said. “We might be able to forge a path to the castillion.”

“Gather them,” Tylar ordered.

Krevan led them back to the flippercraft, trailed by the bullhound.

They met Lorr on the way back. The tracker bowed his head toward Kathryn. “The big kank still has a nose for you,” Lorr said, cuffing Barrin by the ear. “As soon as he got ground under his paws, he was mewling and drooling. I knew he had your scent.”

Krevan spoke. “When we saw the fire spreading in the woods, we figured you all were somewhere in the gardens. We had planned to land after off-loading our men and search for your group.”

“We landed a bit harder than we intended,” Corram said.

They reached the stoved flippercraft. Krevan sent Corram to gather a dozen knights. A sharp cry erupted from the lee side of the grounded ship.

Tylar turned.

A shape flew at him. He barely got his sword out of the way in time.

Delia threw her arms around him, hugging tight, all but climbing atop him. “Tylar… I knew you still lived.”

He carefully returned her embrace. He felt the tears on his neck.. and her lips. Tylar met Kathryn’s eyes over the young woman’s shoulder. She glanced away.

Delia finally seemed to collect herself, shedding from him like water. She smoothed her cloak and backed away. “I’m sorry…”

Tylar had no words. He still felt her lips on his neck, the heat of her tears. He was saved from responding to Delia’s apology or Kathryn’s silence by Corram’s arrival with a shadowed mass of knights.

“The weakest flank is off by the southeast tower,” Corram said. “We may be able to break through there to the keep.”

Tylar prayed he was right. He stared across at the others. “There’s no need for all to go. The remaining knights here can protect you.” It was no surprise that Eylan stepped forward. The Wyr-mistress had an interest in his surviving… or at least part of him.

Rogger followed her. He pointed to a bare spot under his elbow, among the branded sigils of the gods. “I still have Chrism’s sigil to collect.”

Kathryn joined them. “Tashijan must be represented.”

“As should the Council of Masters,” Gerrod said, stepping up. “And I know the castillion well. It’s easy to get lost.”

The last stood alone, arms tight around her chest, trembling. “The sword may need to be replenished,” Dart said.

Tylar knelt down to meet her eye. “Brave words, but it’s best you and your friend stay here.”

“Mayhap we’ll need her,” Rogger said. “That sword of yours might need a bit more blood.”

He shook his head. “No. It’s risky enough to bring the sword near Chrism. If something goes wrong, I won’t hand him the girl, too.” He stared across the group. “I have Meeryn’s Grace and daemon. You have your swords and shadows. That will have to do until we reach Chrism. If I can’t take him out in the first stroke of the sword, I doubt I’ll ever have a chance for a second.”