Page 45 of Heart of the Shadow King

There is only darkness. Endless. Inescapable.

There has never been anything but darkness.

Then . . .

I blink. High above me there are lights. A dazzling array of crystals.

No, not crystals. Those are stars.

With a ragged inhale, I sit upright, my eyes darting to take in the turmoil of the world around me. Lur kneels at my right hand, tears staining her pale cheeks. She seems to be saying something, seems to be speaking earnestly to me, but the roaring in my ears drowns out her words. Behind her stands Lady Parh, swaying heavily, her helmet gone, her hair in wild disarray. The little messenger lies curled up in a ball at her feet. Beyond them, the morleth riders fight to control their stamping beasts. All is uproar, mayhem.

But I can see stars. And between the fading pillars’ glow lies a flat, featureless landscape.

I get to my feet, locking my knees so I don’t immediately collapse again. When I am certain I’m stable, I whirl on the Miphato, who stands close by, holding his horse’s reins and stroking its broad cheek soothingly. “What in the nine hells was that?” I growl.

The mage, his cowl once more pulled across his face, turns to look at me. His eyes glitter in the depths of his hood. “No one knows,” he answers coolly. “Neither what it is nor why it comes. It takes who it can and then it goes.”

“Goes where?”

Artoris shrugs. “Who can say? The waypost lights keep it at bay. For the most part. But if someone is marked for culling, they will be taken. Nothing can be done about it.” In a smooth, easy motion, he mounts his horse. The beast is unreasonably placid compared to the frantic morleth. Perhaps he put a spell on it. “Would you like to continue now, Shadow King?”

I stare up at the Miphato, so calm in the aftermath of terror which has left the rest of us shaken to our core. A rush of intense loathing floods my veins. It’s all I can do not to wrench him from his saddle and pound that tranquil face of his into the dirt.

Instead, I turn and march between the wayposts out into the landscape beyond. “Your Majesty!” Lur shouts after me, her voice nearly drowned out by Lady Parh’s barked, “Don’t be a fool, Vor!”

I ignore them both and continue out into the moonlit plain, following a distinct trail of drag-marks carved into the dirt. I follow them at least forty yards from the path until I find what I seek.

Wrag. Lying face up, mouth gaping in a leer of horror.

I stop. My stomach pitches.

He’s fully intact. There’s no bloody torso spilling intestines. His body is whole, still clad in his armor. The only thing missing is his helmet.

And his eyes.

Wrag’s body is divest of its armor, wrapped in a cloak ofhugagougsilk, and bound to the back of his morleth. I issue commands for Commander Ursh and all the other riders lost in the event to be similarly prepared for travel. It is difficult to find volunteers willing to venture beyond the wayposts into the moonlit landscape to search for their remains. Only a handful join me, scouring the countryside for our missing dead. But I will bring them safely home to Mythanar. I will see their souls sent to rest with the Deeper Dark.

Only when every missing person is accounted for do I nod to the Miphato. We ride on. A silent party, following the path delineated by those white pillars. The mage leads the way, and I ride behind him. Parh no longer keeps to my side but hangs back several lengths. So, I am alone.

There is no further sign of black lightning. Not yet at least.

We have ridden some time before my hand seeks the little pouch strapped to Knar’s saddlebag. I reach inside, grip the crystal hidden there, and withdraw it. It pulses softly with inner light, but in its heart, that dark stain churns. Will those who died tonight count toward the debt I owe the gods?

But the crystal is unchanged. Which means the price for Faraine’s life is not yet paid.

19

FARAINE

“Who is it you meet at the circle?”

It isn’t until the sixthdimnesssince Vor left the Under Realm that Hael finally gives voice to the question which has no doubt been brewing in her mind for some time. These last five days she’s said nothing. During that time, I’ve slept fromlusterlingtodimness,risen to eat whatever meal has been brought for me by some unseen servant, and made my way to the gardens once more. All the while my bodyguard has held her tongue.

Thisdimness,when I emerge from the room, I find Hael standing in her usual place against the wall across from me. She’s always there. I don’t know when she rests or refreshes herself. Perhaps her strong trolde body doesn’t need sleep and food and other basic necessities. I haven’t asked. We’ve scarcely spoken since my last fumbling attempt to offer her sympathy. Silence is better between us. Safer.

But there’s a sharpness to her gaze just now which hasn’t been there for some time.

I freeze in place on the threshold of my chamber, one hand still gripping the latch. “I, um . . .” What point is there in denying it? While Hael keeps well out of sight, she must have seen the strange little figure who joins me among theurzulstones. A figure who is not part of the palace household, who certainly doesn’t belong in the palace gardens. It’s a wonder my bodyguard hasn’t had her seized and thrown from the premises long ago.

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