The Shadow's heir

The wound it left behind was ghastly.

She moved the King’s head, tilting it forward so it looked more comfortable, and hesitated.

Something had been stuffed into his mouth; she could see it poking out. She pulled it out.

It was a piece of cloth. As she moved to throw it away, she noticed something, and gingerly spread it out on the ground. It looked like an ordinary piece of linen, probably cut from a bedsheet or something similar. But someone had drawn on it with charcoal.

She shivered involuntarily when she saw that, even though it was a picture she knew well. A circle, with three curling lines that met in the middle spreading out from it. A sunwheel. Gryphus’ symbol.

She looked at the King’s face again, and a terrible sadness spread through her chest.

“Oh, gods, what did they do to yeh?” she whispered. “Why? Yeh poor bastard. .”

Memories flooded back into her mind. The King, coming into that alleyway on the night they met. . She’d stumbled into him after the would-be rapist had pushed her. . He’d felt so thin, but so strong, too, as if nothing could ever knock him down. She remembered the way he’d looked at her, when she had finally realised who he really was-that look she had been too panic-stricken to notice then, but remembered and recognised now-that sad, yearning look. The same look he had given her that night by Skade’s tomb. You remind me of myself. . Why would you want to be like me?

She put her hands on his chest, over his silent heart. “Sire. . Arenadd. . oh, gods, I’m such an idiot! Yeh did so much for me, an’ all I ever did was treat yeh like rubbish. I was scared. . didn’t know what was goin’ on, what yeh were interested in me for. . but I know it now. Yeh just wanted me t’be a friend to yeh, didn’t yeh? That’s all yeh were askin’ for. . Gods, if I’d only. . if I knew who’d done this. .”

She looked down at his white face. Gods, to spend all those years alone, with no-one there who loved him, no-one to talk to except his griffin. . an’ knowin’ the woman he loved was dead. No wonder he took to drink.

When she was younger, she’d seen her foster father drink, too. He’d stay sober for a few days, but in the end the wine or the beer would come out, and he’d drink until he was asleep. Sometimes he’d get angry, but he’d never hit her. . Most of the time he was silent, and sometimes he even cried. One day she’d asked him why he did it, and she’d never forgotten the answer.

It’s yeh mother, girl. I miss her, an’ I can’t stand it.

She wanted to laugh. “It’s just the same, ain’t it?” she said aloud. “Just the same.”

Then she did laugh-but it was a broken, ugly kind of laugh, and when she laughed again, it broke again, and before she knew it, she was crying.

The tears were for her father, but they were for Arenadd, too. Poor, drunken Arenadd, who frightened her so much but only wanted her friendship, and who had come to such a pitiful end in this dank place, all alone.

He wasn’t no Dark Lord, she thought as she sobbed. He was just a man.

14

Destiny

Laela was too exhausted to cry for long.

Common sense told her she should leave, and soon-if someone found her with the King’s dead body, she would be in unimaginable trouble. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him there, so cold and vulnerable. She lifted him into her arms and held him, cradling him against her chest.

“Night God, help him,” she prayed. “Please, help him. Yeh helped me. Now help him. Please. .”

She sighed and bowed her head.

As if that were a signal, an instant later Arenadd’s body twitched. Laela gasped and nearly dropped it, searching urgently for any sign of movement. For a moment it looked like she’d imagined it, but then he twitched again, then gave a violent jerk. His mouth gaped wide open, and horrible wheezing sounds came from his throat. Then he jerked again and started to cough.

Laela let go of him and pulled on his shoulders, moving him into a sitting position. He gagged suddenly, making an awful gurgling sound, and then vomited blood and water.

Once the last of it had escaped, he slumped back onto Laela’s lap and was still.

Laela patted his face. “Sire! Sire-Arenadd! Arenadd, are yeh. . all right? Breathe! For gods’ sakes, breathe in!” She thumped on his chest. “Breathe, damn it!”

His mouth opened, and he gasped in a breath and coughed. More water came up, and he coughed again, but then he breathed, deeply and shakily, and again and again until it had steadied and the colour began to come back into his face.

Laela sobbed. “Oh, thank gods. Thank gods. Thank. . thank the Night God.” She looked skyward, and cringed when the sun hit her eyes. “Thank the Night God,” she said again, more loudly, looking back at Arenadd’s face.

He was breathing much more strongly now, and the blue had left his face. Laela could scarcely believe it.

She touched his face. “Arenadd. Arenadd, can yeh hear me?”

He stirred and moaned, and his eyes flickered open. They had a glazed look, and didn’t focus on her face.

Laela waved a hand in front of them. “Arenadd,” she said again. “Arenadd, please, wake up. Say somethin’.”

He coughed weakly. “Skade. .”

“I ain’t Skade,” said Laela. “Arenadd, yer hurt. I dunno how bad. . Can yeh hear me?”

His eyes slid shut. “Skade, he’s killed me. I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. He had the. . the sword. . Gryphus gave it to him. . I can still feel it in me. . Skade. . please, don’t cry. I was. . I was already. . already dead.”

Laela hugged him to her. “I ain’t Skade. I’m Laela. Arenadd, listen-I gotta get yeh back to the Eyrie, so they can help yeh.”

He stirred. “Skade, I can’t feel my legs.”

“I can carry yeh, then,” Laela said sternly. “Just wait a moment.” She laid him down and went to fetch her boots-he reached weakly after her and made a sound that might have been a sob.

Laela put her boots back on as quickly as she could, and tied her money-bag to her belt. She paused briefly over the now-empty scabbard, and then sighed and threw it into the canal. No point in keeping it.

Then she returned to Arenadd’s side and touched his forehead to reassure him. “It’s all right, I’m here. I’ve got yeh.”

He grabbed at her hand. “Take me out of here, Skade. I don’t want to die in Gryphus’ temple.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll take yeh back,” Laela soothed. She slid her hands underneath him, and awkwardly lifted him. He was heavier than she’d thought, but she slung one of his arms over her shoulders and straightened up. His legs dragged uselessly, and his head lolled forward.

Laela gritted her teeth and set out back toward the Eyrie, following the canal.

They made slow progress. Eventually, Arenadd revived somewhat and tried to help her by using his free arm to support himself on the walls of the buildings they passed. But he showed no sign of trying to walk under his own power.

The path beside the canal was completely deserted, and they got almost all the way back to the Eyrie before a heap of garbage forced Laela to turn away into an alley and back onto the main street. There were plenty of people there, of course, but none of them paid too much attention to the girl and her soaking-wet and apparently crippled companion.

Laela’s shoulders were aching horribly. She wanted to lie down and sleep for a year, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself on over the last stretch.

There were guards posted at the gate. “Oi!” one of them shouted when she was close enough. “What’re ye doing back here? Who’s that?”