Free Shadowkings by Michael Cobley

not done, the race is not yet run."
    A swirl of odours filled his head, earth, roots, the heavy moist smell of growing things. A cold fear had made his heart pound. "Who speaks?"
    "You know me, and my beloved who was slain with your emperor at Arengia. Bitterly have I wept for my heart's desire whose spirit is no more but who I cannot forget. Know that your sorrow is as my own, black and tenacious, yet my hunger for vengeance is more than its equal. So hear me, Ikarno Mazaret, choose life so that life may yet triumph. For although the Lord of Twilight appears to have been victorious, his darkest strategy has failed. And a day will come when the Lord of Twilight's baleful workings shall again twist the world and war shall eat the weak and the innocent. So live, son of my daughters - live and prepare for that day. And avenge our loss."
    Searchers found him later, half-dazed and slumped by the side of the pool. A brooding darkness of spirit had gripped him for weeks thereafter, during which the guidance and command of the survivors was in the hands of the Order's Shield-Prior, Attal. Mazaret frowned, trying to recall Attal's likeness, then sighed in regret. Poor Attal's remains lay in the burial garden with the rest now, dead from a spearthrust that should never have reached him.
    But the memory of that voice speaking in his head, and of the intense, eldritch smells of leaves and wood, would remain undimmed by the passing years.
    Mazaret and the runner followed the quicker path to the Temple, leading round the town and through a small orchard. About two score novitiates and knights were practising swordcraft in the Temple's main yard as they hurried by, heading for the vestry-gate. Rul Dagash was waiting in the archway as they approached.
    "See Tol Urzik," he said to the boy. "He has other tasks for you."
    The runner saluted and darted away. Dagash watched him disappear round a corner before turning to Mazaret.
    "My Lord," he said quietly. "A visitor is waiting in your antechamber - "
    "Good." Mazaret said, following the Rul into the dim interior.
    " - where I have him closely guarded by two senior novitiates."
    He paused, staring at Dagash. "Why? Who is he?"
    "A patrol encountered him and another, an elderly manservant as it turned out, riding in along one of the ravine paths in the middle of the night. After hearing the man's explanation, the Tol in charge of the patrol had them bound, gagged and blinkered then brought up to Krusivel."
    "So who is he?"
    "My Lord, he claims to be your brother."
    Mazaret went very still, gaze averted from Dagash. "Describe him."
    "A man in his forties, shorter than yourself, carries more weight than is good for him, has a sallow complexion, and shoulder-length black hair tied back. He was carrying a sabre and a sleeve dagger when the patrol found them."
    Mazaret nodded, holding up his hand. "Thank you, Dagash. You've done very well. I'll deal with this matter immediately."
    Without another word, he turned and stalked off down the corridor, bootheels loud on the floor planks. Emotion surged through him in varying shades of anger and as he came to his antechamber he slowed, trying to regain his equilibrium. Then he opened the door.
    Salutes came from the two guards within, and a figure sitting at the room's single long table rose as he entered and took a couple of steps towards him, smiling with hand outstretched. The smile faltered when Mazaret's demeanour remained grim and the hand fell to fingering the edge of a shabby brown cloak. Mazaret dismissed the guards and closed the door behind them. Then turned back to his younger brother.
    "So - you're here," he said. "Now what do you want?"
    Coireg Mazaret resumed his seat at the end of the table, leaned one elbow on it and stroked his chin. "The tapestries in here are quite rare, did you know that? And as for that Order banner over there - there are collectors in the north who would really pay - "
    "Right, I'll call the guards..." Ikarno Mazaret