Loremaster - Palace Of Kings Part 23

'Night treads in my footprints,' he whispered, "athering tile malice into folds of contentment and waited with hooded eyes for the sun to set.

'Master!' hissed Kerzolde, slipping through the doorway.

'Two young Marchers are at tile edge of the lawn.)

Krulshards moved noiselessly to tile nearest window and watched the advancing warriors, closing his eyes to mere slits against the noonday glare. 'Take them. Net them in darkness as dley enter the doorway!' whispered the Master of Night, taking a shadowy nightmesh from within the malice and spreading it above the doorway.

'There is danger here,' whispered Rubel, pointing with his

sword at the uprooted hedges and blackened footprints that crisscrossed the lawn.

'Nightbeasts have been here,' answered Arbel, boldly stepping into the first gallery and stopping a pace from the main doorway.

'Wait!' called Rubel, wrinkling his nose. 'Whatever has done this damage is still here, I can smell it. Do not enter!'

Arbel froze.The acrid fumes were spilling through the open doorway, making him choke with each breach. 'Rubel, help me!'

he cried, trying to turn and run.

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Rubel leapt forward, gripped Arbel's hand in his and pulled him backwards out of the gallery. Krulshards screamed with rage and pushed Kerzolde through the doorway after them.

'Kill them! Killl' he snarled, spinning the nightmesh above his head and hurling it at Arbel, catching the young warrior's feet in the slippery black threads and bringing him cras.h.i.+ng to the ground. Rubel slashed at the black threads, Arbel kicked his legs, but the more he struggled the tighter the nightmesh wound around his ankles.

'I cannot move!' he cried, swinging his sword with all his strength at Kerzolde, splitting the Nightmare's spear shaft just above the cruel barbed blade. Rubel sheathed his sword.

He bent low and lifted his brother over his shoulder and ran as fast as he could for the safety of the tree line at the lawn's edge. Kerzolde followed them, swinging a long-handled scythe at Arbel's heels, trying to catch the hooked blade in the flowing threads of the nightmesh, but the noon sunlight blinded him and he cursed, stumbling over the uprooted box hedges, and crashed to his knees.

'Marchers!' he cursed as the two warriors reached the clearing's edge. Rubel had run himself to a standstill; he could go no further with Arbel's weight on his shoulder so he lowered his brother to the ground and hid behind a tree.

'Cut yourself free with your dagger,' he whispered, turning back towards the lawns, 'I will keep watch for the Nightbeasts.'

Arbel sighed and closed his eyes against the darkness that was sweeping over him. It was warm and crowded with visions of the great Marcher he would one day be, clothed in black armour, the most powerful warrior in . . .'

'Hurry, night will be with us soon!' hissed his brother, shaking his arm.

Arbel jolted awake, s.h.i.+vering at what he had seen and hid the black visions deep in his heart as he began cutting at the nightmesh. 'I am going as fast as I can, only the cut threads

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keep trying to catch hold of me again. It is as if it has a life of its own, it is so horrible and clinging.'

Rubel watched the shadows lengthen across the lawn of Gildersleeves. 'Hus.h.!.+' he warned, putting his middle finger to his lips. 'The Nightbeast has come with the most terrible

beast I have ever seen, they are leaving the house, I . . .' Rubel sank to his knees, his mouth silently opening and closing, his eyes wide with terror.

The Master of Nightbeasts stood in the centre of the lawn, enfolded in his malice, and stared at the forest edge, searching for the warriors' fear, sniffing the cool evening breeze for the scent of his enemies. Slowly his raw, skinless head turned towards Rubel, dead locks of lank hair falling across the folds of his malice. Rubel shrank into a tight ball, his knuckles white. Arbel felt the Nightmare stare and hacked quickly through the last of the writhing threads. He wanted to see more of the dark dreams and touch the Nightmare's

promises.

'Rubel,' he whispered, jumping free and turning to his brother. 'Rubel . . .' he swallowed the word, falling on to his knees beside his brother as he saw the face of Krulshards for the first time through the leafy undergrowth. It was so different to the dreams, more awesome and powerful, cruel and without mercy. His tongue felt rough and swollen and all he could do was press the palms of his hands over his eyes to blot out the Nightmare's stare.

'Marchers!' Krulshards sneered, drawing a black blade from the folds of his malice; he could see them at the forest edge, covered by the undergrowth. Putting the blade to his tongue he licked the cutting edge, leaving a thin line of bubbling spittle on the bare metal.

A fast-moving shadow spread across the lawns, blocking

out the sunlight.

'Owls' breath!' hissed Krulshards, raising his arm to protect his face as he fled from the owls, his blade upturned towards the sky.

aArbel felt the Mghtmare's eyes turn away, releasing him. He raised his head and stole a glance at the empty Own, knowing that one daylight he would touch that power and take some of it for his own. He s.h.i.+vered and pulled at Rubel's sleeve, urging him to follow. 'Rubel, come on, run!'

Together they fled deep into the forest, following a littleused path that led towards the flat gra.s.slands and the Tower of Stumble Hill. The stoop of Battle Owls flew low over the swordsman's house, calling in shrill hoots at the Master of Nightmares as he disappeared beneath the eaves of the forest, running in the direction of Woodsedge.

'Krulshards, the Master of Darkness!' they hooted as the Wayhouse of Woodsedge pa.s.sed beneath their wingtips.

'Beware, the Nightmare is near!'

Martbel looked up into the evening sky at the darkening stoop of owls, her forehead drawn in a frown. 'They have bad omens in their call,' she said to Elionbel. 'Listen girl, bad omens!'

'The boys are late,' Elionbel worried, looking up at the owls and biting her lips before she turned her eyes back to the road that led towards Gildersleeves.

'Bad omens from Underfall. Defeat at World's End. I'm sure that was in their voices,' mused Martbel, s.h.i.+vering as she thought of Tombel and drawing her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.

'They were fools to go,' Elionbel muttered.

'The King ordered it. It was beyond their choice!' snapped Martbel, her face blood red with anger.

'No, no! I mean the boys! Gildersleeves is empty. I am sure Father said Duclos and Morolda would follow the Marchers and the Gallopers to Underfall. There was no need for them to check that the swordsman's house was safe.'

'They are Marchers, set to follow in their father's footprints.

It was hard enough keeping them here, away from the glories of battle, to guard us. Be not over-hard on them,

Elion. If your father, Tombel, is dead they will take the Keepers.h.i.+p.'

Elionbel smiled, remembering how they had boldly driven the Nightbeasts out of the Wayhouse. 'Brave warriors or not, Mother, they are late, and I hope they will have the sense to shelter the dark hours at Gildersleeves.'

'Come, daughter, worrying will not shorten their road. Come, bolt the doors. There is something in the air that bodes great evil, something on the Greenway. I can feel it gnawing and nagging at me. Come, stoke up the stairhead fire and prepare for the dark night ahead.'

Elionbel s.h.i.+vered, taking a last quick look towards Gildersleeves and paused, frowning. For a moment she thought she saw two figures in the half-light. 'Nightbeasts on the road,'

she cried, as the two figures came closer, emerging from beneath the eaves of the forest. She could see them clearly now, one a humped grotesque Nightbeast with a broken claw, the other a taller, more hideous figure, wrapped in a dark cloak that billowed out, spreading in ragged, tangled shadows about his feet. Elionbel turned and fled into the Wayhouse, slamming the door and shooting home the bolts as fast as she could.

Without pausing for breath she raced to the stairhead and stoked the fire into a roaring blaze, thrusting as many fire-irons into the fire as she could.

'Nightbeasts! Nightbeasts!' she shouted, stumbling over the words. 'On the road from Gildersleeves!'

'Nightbeasts? Before the sun sets?' Martbel cried.

'Come up here, Mother, to the safety of the fire. They were more terrible than anything I have ever seen before. Please come!' Elionbel's voice faded away, she could hear their footsteps on the gravel outside, and smelt an odour of death.

'Mother,' she wept, backing into a corner of the hearth and sinking to her knees. The footsteps had stopped and in the darkening silence that followed a faint whisper began.