The lever was ancient and rusted； and had clearly not been used for decades。 It resisted him； and he
closed his eyes as he strained to move it。 He planted one foot against the wall and bent his back against
it； groaning with the exertion。 It did not budge。
The guards closed towards him unerringly； hefting their heavy swords。 They were less than ten yards
away。
‘Come on！’ shouted Chlod； tugging frantically on the lever。
With a horrendous screeching of metal； the lever gave way and Chlod fell to the ground。 There was a
grinding of gears and the two halves of the trapdoor swung downwards； like the floor beneath a hangman
’s noose。 They struck the walls of the vertical shaft with a resounding boom； and at the same moment； the
chain from the crane began to unspool。 The heavy hook rocketed down into the darkness； and the sound
of the chain unravelling was deafening。
A cloud of bats erupted from below； screeching and clawing。 In their midst； eyes tinged red and their
flesh covered in open sores and filth； the most devolved of Grandfather Mortis’s children burst from the
darkness。 A narrow staircase descended around the edge of the vertical shaft leading down to the canal
fifty feet below； and dozens of wild…eyed； emaciated figures appeared； crawling over each other in their
haste。
One of them was cut almost in two by a black…armoured guard； the heavy blow splitting him
diagonally from shoulder to hip。 Then the two armoured figures disappeared beneath the feral tide； borne
to the ground with a crash。
The chain had come to a shuddering halt； and after a pause； it began to reverse； hauled back up by
toothed cogs and immense counter…weights hidden behind the stone wall。
Chlod lay still； breathing heavily； as he watched the demise of the two guards。 Rocks pounded their
helmets until the metal buckled inwards； and knives were slid between gaps in their plate。 Finally； the two
armoured figures were still。 One of their visors had been wrenched completely out of shape and torn
loose； and Chlod hurriedly looked away as he saw what was contained within。 If ever the suit of armour
had ever been worn by a living man； that time was long past。
The chain continued to recoil； clunking loudly as each link was reeled in。 Finally； the massive hook
reappeared。 Four iron rings had been attached to it； each hooked into smaller chains that were orange
with rust。 A loading pallet was hauled into view； carrying the smiling figure of Grandfather Mortis； who
was standing with his arms raised above him like an ascendant god。
A cluster of filthy peasants manhandled the crane； swinging it away from the gaping trapdoor； and it
settled to the floor with a final groan。
‘Excellent； excellent；’ said Mortis； stepping away from the platform and rubbing his skeletal hands
together。
He moved towards Chlod； still lying against the wall； and lifted him gently to his feet。 He stroked
Chlod’s cheek with the back of one grey； wrinkled hand。 ‘You have done well； my child；’ he said。 ‘The
sins of the past are forgiven。’
Grandfather Mortis continued to stroke Chlod’s cheek for a moment； then he grabbed him tightly
around the neck； his thumbs pressing hard into his throat。 Chlod gaped like a landed fish； his eyes
boggling。
‘But don’t even think about leaving us again；’ said Mortis。 ‘You belong with us； and I will not tolerate
any disobedience from you again。’
From somewhere distant； there came a ferocious roar； booming up through the lower levels of the
palace。 Mortis released Chlod； a look of rapture upon his face； and Calard’s manservant fell to his
knees； gasping for air。
‘Harken； my children！’ said Mortis； lifting a hand to his ear。 ‘Hear the call of our beloved lord！
XI
HIS FACE A mask of grim resolve； Calard slipped through the braying crowd。 His gaze did not waver
from Merovech。 Calard was some ten people back from the edge of the fighting circle； and was making
his way steadily through the press； closing the distance to the albino duke。 His fist was clenched tightly
around the hilt of the Sword of Garamont； sheathed at his hip。
There was a grunt of pain and a splash of blood in the fighting circle below； and the crowd roared its
approval。 Merovech alone made no reaction； his expression cold and detached。 Calard ignored the
glances he received from knights and ladies as he pushed his way through the onlookers； drawing ever
nearer the butcher responsible for the sacking of Castle Garamont。
‘Kill him！’ shouted a woman wearing a spidery lace ruff around her slender neck。 Her powdered
cheeks were flushed and her pupils dilated。 Her cry was echoed by dozens of others； all crying out for
blood。
Calard was now directly behind Merovech； and he began to work his way forwards； shouldering
through the crowd。
The duke stood alone； aloof and distant from all those gathered around him。 No one came within arm
’s distance of his person； possibly out of respect； or perhaps more likely out of fear。 Merovech was a
motionless island amidst a braying sea of humanity； yet far from making him appear unthreatening or
calm； his utter stillness was deeply unsettling。 It set him apart from those around him； perhaps even more
so than his alabaster countenance； making him appear inhuman and alien。
Calard’s gaze never wavered。 Cold fury burned in his eyes。 He was only yards away now； only
seconds from attaining his vengeance。 His whole being became utterly focused； his senses heightened to
unsurpassed levels in anticipation of this final confrontation。
He could smell the sickly fragrance of the scented perfumes and oils worn by the courtiers； which did
little to mask the excited sweat exuded by those watching the brutal contest below。 He could taste the
metallic tang of blood in the air。 He could hear every grunt and grimace of the two duelling knights； the
scrape of their boots upon the grooved floor of the killing circle； and the sharp clang of metal on metal。
He could feel the reassuring weight of the Sword of Garamont beneath his grasp。
Calard stood directly behind the duke now。 All he had to do was draw his blade and run the fiend
through。 No one； not Merovech nor any of his gathered knights would be able to stop him。 He started
drawing the Sword of Garamont before he regained control of himself。
Cutting an enemy down from behind； even a monster like Merovech； was an honourless； dog act；
and one that would lessen him in his own eyes and the eyes of the Lady。 And besides； Merovech was
only one half of the murderous pair that had butchered his nephew and laid waste to his castle。 Before
Merovech died； he was honour bound to discover the identity of the second fiend； so that he too could
be brought to justice。
The duel came to a sudden； brutal end。 It was a shockingly one…sided affair； with one knight clearly
toying with the other。 Finally tiring of the game； he struck his opponent a vicious blow to the neck。 The
knight dropped to one knee； sword clattering from his grip。
Calard saw all this only dimly； the action taking place in his peripheral vision； his gaze still locked on
Merovech。
The crowd hollered and stomped their feet； and Calard heard the fallen knight begging for mercy。
The other knight turned his back on him； lifting his sword high into the air； accepting the roar of the
crowd。 The beaten warrior lowered his hand； and his head dropped in defeat。 There was a lot of blood；
but the wound was not fatal。
With inhuman speed and savagery； the victorious knight swung around suddenly； sword blade
flashing。 The defenceless knight was decapitated； and a fountain of blood erupted from the stump of his
neck。 The head bounced and rolled across the floor； coming to a halt against the lowest curved step of
the killing circle。 A surprised expression was etched upon its ashen face。 For a second the headless
corpse remained upright； blood spraying forth in rhythmic spurts； before it toppled forwards and was still。
Blood continued to gush from the body； running into the spiralling grooves carved in the floor。 The crowd
cheered their approval。
The speed and savagery of the dishonourable blow dragged Calard’s attention briefly away from his
foe。
He looked upon the face of the duel’s victor； and his blood ran cold。
It was his brother； Bertelis。
XII
CALARD’S EYES WIDENED in horror。
Bertelis stood alone in the circle； splattered in blood。 His face bore an unhealthy pallor； and a cruel
half…smile ghosted across his blue…tinged lips。 He dropped to his knees before Duke Merovech。
‘For your honour； my lord；’ said Bertelis in a voice that made the hairs on the back of Calard’s neck
stand on end。 It was at once his brother’s voice； and it wasn’t； tinged with bitterness and cruelty。
Merovech laid his hand upon the back of Bertelis’s head as if in some dark benediction。 They held
the pose for a moment； then Merovech spoke。
‘Rise；’ he said； his voice cold and dispassionate。
Calard was frozen in place； staring at his brother。
The duke loosened one of his exquisite； tight…fitting leather gloves and pulled it free； exposing a hand
as pale as virgin snow。 He drew a slender dagger from his hip and placed it across his naked hand。 His
fingers closed tightly around the blade； and with a smooth； slow movement； he slid the dagger free。 His
blood shone brightly upon the blade。
Sheathing the knife； Merovech clicked his fingers and a goblet of wine was handed to him。 He lifted
his pale hand above the goblet； still clenched in a fist； and let his blood drip steadily into the wine。 When
the flow ceased； he handed the goblet to Bertelis； who accepted it with a look of hunger。
‘All of Mousillon salutes you； Bertelis； champion of champions；’ said Merovech。
Bertelis lifted the goblet high； then threw his head back and gulped back its contents。 He shuddered
in rapture； his eyes half…closed as he lowered the drinking vessel from his lips。
Calard groaned in horror as he watched his brother drink the wine infused with blood； shocked to
the core of his being。 Bertelis wiped a ruby drip from the corner of his mouth； and Duke Merovech
stepped down into the centre of the duelling ring。 He moved with a lion’s grace。
Bertelis had always been tall； standing half a head clear of Calard himself； but Merovech towered
over him。 He turned around on the spot； eyeing the gathered knights。 His white features contrasted
sharply with the black of his armour； and his red…tinged eyes glinted in the torchlight； like those of a wolf。
All conversation had ceased in the chamber； and now all were gathered close in around the duelling pit to
hear their master’s words。
‘Tonight is an auspicious night； my brothers；’ said Merovech； his voice booming out to fill the
expansive hall。 He began to stalk around the perimeter of the circle； like a caged beast。 ‘Tonight is the
dawning of a new era in Mousillon’s history。 Once； our realm was the most powerful in all Bretonnia。
Now we have a chance to reclaim that glory； you and I。’
Calard found himself captivated by Merovech； unable to tear his eyes away from him。
‘For seven hundred years I slumbered；’ said Merovech。 ‘I awoke to find Mousillon a pale shadow of
its glorious past； overrun with vermin； its lands annexed by its neighbours； its very name a by…word for
d