Free In The Shadow Of The Beast by Harlan H Howard

in fact. There had always been a vast gulf between the
two as long as the young heir could remember, and Sigourd felt sure
that The Baron, who was not a man given to close acquaintances at
the best of time, had made special effort to keep his nephew at
arm’s length. It had bothered Sigourd greatly as a boy, but as he’d
gotten older he’d concerned himself with it less and less.
    This time however, when Sigourd looked into
the eyes of The Baron, there was something more there than the
casual distaste he’d always know. There was malice.
    Their eyes had met for only the briefest of
moments before Mortaron himself turned and stalked from Sigourd’s
bedchamber, but the enmity in that glare was undeniable.
    The Baron closed the chamber door loudly
behind him, leaving Sigourd alone with the house maid, who fussed
about Sigourd, setting out a tray of foodstuffs consisting of broth
and bread for him.
    Sigourd knew that his mother was correct.
Trying times lay ahead for both Sigourd and Corrinth Vardis. He
knew without doubt that Isolde was alive somewhere, felt that
knowledge burning in his soul, and promised himself that he would
stop at nothing to find her. Not fear, nor duty or the commands of
his father.
     
    Veronique walked along the darkened corridor
leading from her son’s bedchamber. Candles in sconces spaced along
the wall flickered feebly, casting a sombre light that gave
Veronique the uneasy feeling of being caught underground in some
subterranean warren. The same kind of place where poor Cal had met
his end. She could smell faintly the aroma of gunpowder and
charcoal, carried on the light winds from the site of the
explosion.
    Things were indeed in motion that would
unsettle the very foundations of her world. The fear that rose up
in Veronique at this thought was like some growling monster
ascending from the depths of her soul, eager to consume her.
    Lost in these troubling thoughts she did not
hear the quiet approach of the person who loomed behind her, his
voice coming suddenly out of the murk gave her a jolt that snatched
her back into the gloomy corridor.
    ‘ The boy will go to look
for the dammed harlot,’ said Mortaron.
    Veronique turned suddenly, her pulse racing.
She tried to fight down the churning in her belly, refusing to give
her brother the satisfaction of seeing her in any state of
emotional vulnerability. With a man like Mortaron, showing weakness
would be a grave error.
    ‘ I know,’ said Veronique,
‘we must stop him.’
    ‘ Ha, was I ever able stop
you coming and going as you pleased? The best we can hope for is to
keep him under watch, make sure that he doesn’t come into contact
with anyone he shouldn’t.’ said Martaron.
    ‘ And if he should leave the
castle? He’ll be vulnerable out there, they’ll be able to reach
him!’
    ‘ They’ve already shown that
they can reach him whenever they please,’ Mortaron scowled, ‘but
recent events have given us an excuse to increase the defenses of
the city and my men are stalking the shadows to root out our
special concern. I will ensure that the secret is kept.’
    Veronique looked at her brother, studying
his face as realization dawned on her.
    ‘ That is all you care about
isn’t it? Keeping your precious secret!’
    Mortaron raised his eyebrows archly, and in
an almost quizzical tone inquired, ‘Why, what else is there?’
    Before Veronique could frame a response The
Baron had turned and was already moving off down the corridor,
leaving his sister alone with her fears.
     
    The old house maid set out the bowl of broth
on a tray before Sigourd, arranging the utensils for him neatly by
the bowl. Her hands were worn from her years in dutiful service,
but the fingers retained a nimble grace that belied their wizened
appearance.
    Sigourd knew that she had been in the
service of his family since before the time of his birth. If memory
served she had been a senior maid in the household of Sigourd’s
uncle before being transferred to the