James Clemens - Shadowfall

The man claiming to be the Raven Knight kept his wary stance, as did the Wyr-woman at his side.

“No one move!” she ordered.

Barrin crouched low to the floor, lips rippled back, baring fangs in pain and fury. The dagger’s hilt still protruded from his left eye.

Lorr’s features matched the ferocity of his wounded bullhound, but he kept his stance at the door. “Castellan, come to me,” he said through gritted teeth.

Kathryn held her place. “Lorr, call off Barrin and Hern.”

The tracker’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Lorr, do as I say!”

With an angry grunt, he coaxed Barrin to drop to his belly. The bullhound moaned, rubbing its impaled eye with the edge of a paw, but the blade had been embedded deep, into bone and nerve. A whimpering flowed from it as the pain worsened.

“Wait,” said Tylar. He pushed up from the wall and rubbed the back of his head. He moved toward the bullhound. “There’s no reason to continue its suffering.”

Lorr stepped toward Tylar. “If anyone is to end Barrin’s misery, it will be me.” He raised a dagger.

“No,” Tylar warned sharply. “That’s not necessary.”

Kathryn joined them. “Lorr, do as he says.”

Tylar crept slowly up to the wounded side of the bullhound. He reached toward the dagger’s hilt. Barrin snapped at him, coming close to taking off Tylar’s arm. A slather of tossed saliva struck Tylar’s cloak, burning holes clean through.

“Can you hold him still?” Tylar asked Lorr.

“Be quick.” The tracker swore under his breath but moved to Barrin’s other side. He bent and whispered in his ear. Barrin’s head rolled toward Lorr, wanting reassurance.

Tylar used the moment to dart forward. But rather than driving the dagger into the hound’s brain, he snatched the dagger free and jumped back.

Barrin jerked his head up and pawed again at his eye. Kathryn expected blood and ichor to pour from the pierced globe. But when Barrin stared back at Lorr, his eye was unharmed, as if it had never been stabbed.

“How could this be?” the tracker gasped.

“A bale dagger,” Tylar said. “A gift from Lord Balger. It heals as fast as it cuts. There should be no lasting harm.”

Lorr’s eyes remained narrowed, but their edge of fury slowly faded. Still, he kept both daggers in hand and his beasts at ready. The bullhounds fully blocked the only exit, waiting for their master’s whistle to tear into those trapped here.

“You are the godslayer,” Lorr said, staring hard at Tylar.

“I slew no god,” he said with exasperation.

“He speaks the truth,” Kathryn said.

Doubt still shone there. Tylar’s compassion had bought them a moment, but nothing more. Kathryn sought some way to convince the tracker, but they didn’t have much time. With all the commotion here, word would soon reach Argent or one of his cronies. But how to convince Lorr to let them all go?

Help came from an unusual source. A figure pushed between the Raven Knight and the Wyr-woman. It was the handmaiden to Meeryn. A slim young woman. Kathryn had forgotten her name.

Lorr had not. “Delia…” He stumbled forward a step. “It can’t be…”

“We are ill-met here, Tracker Lorr.”

“How did you…?” He glanced to Tylar, then back to the handmaiden. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping my friends,” she said with a sad smile. “Like I did with you and your wolf pups when I was a child. I still remember the one named Eyesore, the runt with the twisted back leg.”

Something between a smile and a grimace formed on the tracker’s face. “The tough old ranger died four years back. During a campaign with your father.”

“Oh, no…” Genuine sorrow echoed in her voice.

Kathryn glanced to Tylar.

“She’s Argent’s daughter,” he said.

Kathryn studied the slip of a girl. Brought to her attention, she now noted the similarity in features.

Lorr continued. “Delia, you were a chosen of Meeryn. I remember, when I first heard, I was right near to bursting with pride.”

Now it was Delia’s turn to widen her eyes in surprise. “How… You knew?”

“Though your father may have forgotten you, I have not. Not my little wolf girl.”

Tears rose and brimmed the maiden’s eyes.

Lorr seemed uncomfortable by the raw emotion. He glanced around the room. “But now you serve those accused of Meeryn’s death.”

“Falsely accused.” Delia wiped at her eyes brusquely. “The true murderer is whom we seek to expose.”

Lorr stared hard at the handmaiden, as if he were trying to use his keen sight and altered senses to read the truth, to search for enchantment upon the girl he once knew.

Kathryn knew she’d best press the matter. “Lorr, we must be away. They came for information that I think Master Gerrod might supply. We must not keep them.”

Lorr shook his head. “They’ll never make it. All the passages down to the master’s levels have been barricaded tight with guards. None can pass from the upper levels to the lower without a full search.”

“What if Kathryn goes herself?” Tylar asked. “She can inquire about Rivenscryr from her friend.”

“Lorr would have to come with me,” Kathryn said. “His absence would be noted. And what about you all? You can’t stay here.”

As proof to her words, shouts sounded distantly, coming from the main stair.

Lorr stirred. “Castellan, do you truly trust these folks?”

Kathryn stared at Tylar. Though he wore the same face, much had changed in him-then again much had not. She looked at him now with eyes aged by years and heartache, no longer so naive. He had always been a caring and generous man. In the past, she had let herself doubt this in a moment of panic, confusion, and shock. But she was no longer that woman either.

“I do trust him,” she mumbled and turned to Lorr.

The tracker nodded. “Then there might be a way. But we’ll all have to go together. I can show them a passage that is surely unguarded. A passage that isn’t a passage.”

“What about Perryl?” Tylar said.

Kathryn clenched a fist on the hilt of her sword. She pictured the young knight’s straw hair and easy manner. She had a hard decision to make. “If what you say is true,” she said, “then there’s too much at stake. Lorr and I will search for him after you’re gone. Until then, all we can do is pray he’s safe.”

Tylar hesitated, but finally nodded. Like Kathryn, he knew the weight of duty.

Kathryn turned to the doorway. “Show us, Lorr.”

Tylar and the others pulled their cloaks and hoods back up. Lorr backed Barrin and Hern out into the hallway.

The noise of approaching boots grew louder. A call reached them. “What’s all this uproar?”

Lorr shoved through the bullhounds to face the leader of a cadre of guards. Kathryn held her breath. What if he betrayed them?

“Just a tussle between a couple of hungry dogs,” Lorr grumbled. “So unless you feel like joining them for dinner, you’d best clear on out.” At a hand signal from the tracker, Hern growled with a great show of teeth.

The leader backed away several steps.

Lorr continued. “What is it about you skaggin’ knights?” He waved back to Tylar and the other cloaked figures. “Always come running when you hear a dog bark, but you need some real fighting done and you’re nowhere to be found.”

The guard leader scowled at the insult. “You’d best watch your tongue, tracker.”

Hern growled again.

“And you and your knights better watch more than your tongues.”

The knight waved him off. “Take your beasts out of my halls.”

Lorr sneered and shoved through his dogs. “Continue to the hall’s back stair,” he hissed as he passed Tylar. “The main stair will be too crowded.”