Tom Lloyd: The Twilight herald

'And where we find Ilumene, Rojak will be close at hand,' Emin told her. 'And they will both pay.'

At the peak of a long gentle rise, Isak gave a tug on his reins to bring his charger to a halt and leaned on the pommel of his saddle, survey-ing the ground ahead. His companions joined him on the level crest and waited quietly at his side, enjoying the view. It was well into what had been an afternoon of uninterrupted sunshine and a warm breeze drifted up off the long, empty meadow, bringing the scents of dry grass and blooming wildflowers. The undulating plain, spotted by the odd copse of trees, stretched for a dozen empty miles before reaching the dark edges of a forest. In the far distance a darker patch indicated "some sort of lake.

Isak remembered the forest from when he'd travelled this way in his previous life, as an unknown and irrelevant youth on a wagon-train. his Iife' now, as the duke he had become, could not be more different. there was only one road, carpeted with pine needles, winding its way under a high canopy of massive old pines. It had felt like the last bastion of home before the Land opened up to admit everyone else, despite being well outside the Farlan border. To the right was a line of five gorse-skirted hillocks, and he remembered the sight from the otheri side. The regular humps had always looked too neat and, side-on, the line was like the back of some vast serpent sliding out of its burrow in the slope where they now stood.

Carel, commander of Isak's guard, the friend and mentor of his youth, had told him of the many battles that had been fought just because those bills resembled a snake, the chosen creature of their patron god Nartis; that alone had been enough for past lords in Tirah to consider this place the rightful border between nations, but they had never been able to bold it. A quirk of terrain meant this place was easely surrounded and cut off by armies approaching from the south, the wachtowers put up to warn of approaching enemies, like the

castle built on the border itself, had long since been pulled down and now scarcely a trace of their position remained.

They had made good time in their urgent flight home, thanks to King Emin's royal barge, which sped them to the border where one of his black-clad agents had already secured a fast river-boat for the next leg of the trip, but suddenly Isak was in no hurry to cross into territory that was now his own. Here it was peaceful; here they had the Land to themselves. After their defeat in Narkang, the White Circle had retreated completely from the conflict in Tor Milist and the ruling duke had in turn recalled all of his forces to mop up those cut adrift. Suddenly Tor Milist's eastern border, that ran alongside the very river that had carried Isak and his party home, was quieter than at any time in the last century. Isak felt a smile creep over his face as the sun warmed his cheeks. He could hear birds, the distinctive warble of song-thrushes somewhere in the dark gorse bushes and, further off, a flock of starlings chattering as they circled in the sky.

I remember a day like this, hawking in the hills of Meyon with my sons and my cousins. The wind smelled the same as today: warm grass and wildflowers on the breeze.

Isak nodded in absentminded agreement with the voice in his head. Count Vesna caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. The handsome nobleman tilted his head up to look at Isak, then gave an almost imperceptible shiver and turned away. Isak had told his com¬panions what happened that night in Llehden, when prophecy had in¬vaded His life and the soul of a dead king had invaded his head. Vesna had said nothing then, and had hardly mentioned it since. Isak could tell he didn't know what to think. The implications were both terrify-ing; and momentous, not just for Isak, but for their entire nation.

Mihn sal quietly behind Isak, watching his lord's every movement. He had accepted the situation with his usual fatalistic manner, while Carel and Tila had taken it on board quickly, momentarily stunned, then interested – they'd found their voices quickly and it had taken Isak an hour or more to calm their fears and reassure the pair that he was in no danger. It was hard for them to accept that the soul of Aryn Bwr had tried to take over his body and failed, but Isak persuaded them that Aryn Bwr's failure was his gain. If the Land expected him to act like a king, then who better to have as an advisor than the greatest king the Land had ever seen? That the dead Elf was also the Gods' greatest enemy was something of a complication, but Isak was sure he was completely under control, even if his companions had yet to be convinced.

The poppies looked like spilled blood on the ground. There were omens in the sky, and over the Land, hut 1 failed them. I failed to see what was in front of me.

Isak ignored the voice as it fell into melancholy, determined not to let the captive spirit ruin his good mood. Unbroken summer sun was a rare thing in the Spiderweb Mountains and the Farlan cherished such days. Foreigners would joke that the Farlan would halt a war for the chance to enjoy the sun, and as Isak sat there and felt the warmth on his cheeks it sounded a perfectly sensible idea to him. The early evening sun hovered a little above the horizon, casting a golden light out over the Land, freezing it in a long moment of peace before twilight would be permitted its reign.

The last king had fragmented his own soul to escape Death's final Judgment, hiding his thoughts and memories inside the Crystal Skulls he'd lorged for that purpose. Now, as those memories returned to the

dead king, Isak felt the echoes of Aryn Bwr's pain. He cast around, searching for something to push the Elf's dismal thoughts from his

mind, but there was little to attract the attention. They were almost at the highest point in the area, but aside from the narrow dirt track they were following there was nothing but a small cairn of stones, some thirty yards away.

In the hills of Meyon I held my heir and watched him die. In the hills of Meyon / cursed the ground where Velere died.

|sak felt a wave of sadness and rage radiate through his body, and He remembered the letter he had carried to King Emin about the place called Velere's Fell. It was no longer a tale of horror on the page for him, but a glimpse of grief and fury so strong it still scarred the Land, seven thousand years later, and its echo left a sour taste in Isaks mouth. Isak sighed and scratched his cheek, waving away the inquisitive fly that was darting around his face. Are you really going to ruin a beautiful view for me? he wondered.

This land is so different to the one I used to know, the voice went on, musing. Its colour has been bleeding out over the long years. Now

it is grey, and marked by the scars of my passing. Aryn Bwr was lost in

HIS OWN thoughts again; only twice since leaving Llehden had Isak actually conversed with the spirit that had taken up residence inside his head.

'That's my good mood gone,' he muttered, and he slid from the saddle.

'My Lord?' Vesna enquired.

'I just need to stretch my legs for a bit,' Isak said with a dismissive wave of the hand. Carel immediately gave the order for the guards to split up, as he did every time they stopped for a break, then he dismounted himself and joined his young lord. Isak forced a smile and draped an arm over the old man's shoulder. As they wandered slowly towards the cairn of stones, Isak felt his smile become genuine. Here was a strange thing: only after it had become unseemly for a man in his position had Isak ever felt the urge to hug the man he thought more of a father to him than Horman had ever been.

'You want to pray?' Carel asked in a dubious tone. He'd known Isak for most of the white-eye's life; Isak had always resented piety when it was imposed upon him.