Orlando？ Where is Montcadas？’
Fresh tears welled in Josephine’s eyes and Maloric’s expression darkened。
‘I’m sorry； Calard；’ Josephine said。
CALARD STARED AT the empty plate in front of him。 Despite its quality and his hunger； the food had
been like ash in his mouth。
‘It was ablaze by the time my knights and I arrived；’ said Maloric。 ‘There was nothing to be done。 It
burned solidly for two days； and it was a week before the embers cooled。’
‘The goddess must have been looking over me；’ said Josephine。 ‘Only my two handmaidens； a
stableboy and I escaped。’
‘How she didn’t break a leg leaping from her window； I’ll never know；’ said Maloric。
‘How could two knights have killed them all？’ asked Calard。 ‘Fifteen of my vassal knights； as well as
what； forty men…at…arms？ Fifty？ It is inconceivable。 No two men could do that。’
‘They were no men；’ said Josephine。 ‘Of that I am certain。 They were daemons in knights’ bodies。’
‘You saw them； you said？’ said Calard。
‘Only from afar。 I was in my chambers preparing for bed when I heard them arrive at the castle
gates。 It was late。 I heard the voices of your knights welcome these newcomers； as if they knew them。
Their voices were raised； not in alarm but in surprise； joy even。 At first I thought maybe it was you；
Calard； returning home； but I was mistaken。 The screams started soon after that。’
Calard leaned forward； focused completely on Josephine’s words。 Her face was pale and drawn；
and her eyes misted over as she took herself back to that fateful night five years earlier。
‘I know this is hard；’ said Calard。 Josephine composed herself before continuing。
‘I left my room and was coming down the stairs。 There were bodies everywhere。 The screams were
deafening。 I could see one of them clearly through the open doors of the main hall。 He – it – was covered
in blood； from head to toe； and it moved faster than any man should。 I ran to Orlando’s room； but one of
the monsters had already been there。’ She sobbed； and took a moment to contain herself before
continuing。 ‘He looked as though he was sleeping。 His eyes were closed； but there was so much blood。。。
The baron was there too。 He died with a sword in his hand； blind as he was； the brave old fool。 I ran to
my room； and barricaded the door。 I stayed there until I smelled smoke。 The floor started to get hot。
When the heat became unbearable I leapt from my window。’
‘The knight you saw；’ said Calard。 ‘Did you see his heraldry？’
‘No；’ said Josephine。 ‘But the devil was garbed in white。’
‘Dressed in white。。。’ breathed Calard。 The vision that had been plaguing him for months sprang
unbidden into his mind。 The images were confusing； their meaning unclear； but he recalled again a shield
of white lying discarded on the ground； splattered with blood。 Bones and a skull； bleached white in the
sun； were visible in the dead grass。 A breeze picked up and black petals filled the air。 Several flowers
settled on the shield face； and only now did Calard recognise them for what they were。
‘This knight。 His shield bore a black fleur…de…lys； didn’t it？’
‘It is possible；’ said Josephine； frowning； ‘but I could not be sure。’
‘I am certain；’ said Calard。 ‘The Lady sent me a vision of black lilies falling upon a shield of white。
She was telling me who did this。’
The lily was sacred to the Lady； and had been since the founding of Bretonnia。 The tri…petalled
symbol of the fleur…de…lys was a stylistic representation of the sacred flower； and while it had always
been a sign of purity； the symbol had also been traditionally worn by the nobles of a house that was once
proud and honourable； but had long fallen to darkness。
‘The goddess has shown me who has brought this ruination on my house that I might seek
vengeance；’ said Calard； his eyes gleaming with conviction。
‘If you say so；’ said Maloric； putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders。
‘My path is clear；’ said Calard； standing。 ‘I must leave。’
‘Leave？’ said Josephine； half…rising。 ‘What are you talking about？’
‘If he wishes to chase foolish dreams； let him go；’ said Maloric； placing a hand on his wife’s arm。
‘But go where？’
‘The knight that you saw；’ said Calard。 ‘I know who he is。’
‘Who？’ said Josephine。
‘A black fleur…de…lys against a white field。 That is the heraldry of Merovech of Arlons。’
‘The knight that defeated your brother at the tournament in Lyonesse；’ said Maloric。 ‘Am I right？’
‘You are。’
‘Arlons？’ said Josephine。 ‘Where is that？ I am not familiar with the name。’
‘I am not surprised；’ said Maloric； ‘for it is a cursed place。 It lies within the borders of Mousillon。’
‘Mousillon；’ breathed Josephine； her eyes widening in horror。
‘And that is where I go；’ said Calard。
III
MOUSILLON ； REALM OF the Damned。
Chlod stared ahead with wide； unblinking eyes as the barge made steady progress across the black
waters of the River Grismarie。 His gaze was locked in the near distance； where a solid wall of fog rose
up； linking the icy black water with the overcast sky； concealing the shores of Mousillon。 The peasant
shivered。
‘It is like the edge of the world；’ said Chlod。 ‘And we are sailing straight towards it。’
‘Nonsense；’ said Calard。 ‘It is fog； nothing more。’
He was turning a sword over in his hands； marvelling at its workmanship。 The blade was flawless；
gleaming silver and the pommel was beautifully crafted into the shape of a fleur…de…lys。
The Sword of Garamont was a priceless heirloom； and it had been in the family for generations。 Said
to have been blessed by the kiss of the Lady herself； Calard had presented it to his nephew Orlando
when he had taken up his quest。 He had feared it lost； stolen or destroyed when his castle was sacked；
but such fears had been proven unfounded。 Before he had left Sangasse three weeks earlier； Maloric had
brought it to him； wrapped in velvet。
‘My men found it in the ruins；’ the Earl of Sangasse had said。 ‘I thought it best not to leave it for
scavengers。’
Miraculously； perhaps protected by the Lady’s blessing； the blade had survived the fire unscathed。
Calard sheathed the sword； and buckled it around his waist。
They were approaching the midway point of the Grismarie； and the river’s black water was flowing
fast and deep beneath them。 Squat guard towers could be seen along the river bank in the distance
behind them； on the Bastonne side of the Grismarie。 Similar towers were positioned all along the many
hundreds of miles of Mousillon’s borders。 Funded by the king’s coffers； these bastions had been erected
almost five hundred years earlier； and they stood as silent sentinels； ever watchful for a threat from
Mousillon。 At the first sign of trouble； the massive pyres atop the towers would be lit； one after another；
spreading the word faster than an eagle could fly。
Calard’s horse whinnied and shuffled uneasily； hooves sounding sharply on the barge’s deck。
Standing； Calard moved back to where the destrier was tethered and spoke to her in soothing tones；
stroking her neck。 Five surly boatmen worked the barge in silence； but Calard ignored them。 Having
settled his warhorse； he made his way towards the bow； where Chlod sat clutching the gunwale。 The
barge rocked gently to and fro； and Calard； unused to being on the water； kept a solid grip on the railing
as he moved to the front of the barge。
‘No good will come of this；’ said Chlod。 The peasant was clearly terrified。
The fog loomed hundreds of feet above them； like the sheer walls of a castle marking the midway
point across the Grismarie。 The hunch…backed peasant closed his eyes and muttered a prayer as the
barge entered the murk。
A chill descended on them； its touch wet and cloying； and visibility was suddenly reduced to less than
a few feet。 The mist seemed to swallow up all sound； making even the lapping of water upon the hull of
the barge sound strangely distant。 The fog seeped in under Calard’s armour； making his skin wet and
clammy； and he began to shiver。
Something ground against the underside of the barge； which began to rock back and forth alarmingly。
‘What was that？’ squeaked Chlod； eyes snapping open； fingernails digging into the wooden gunwale。
‘Big fish；’ said one of the grim…faced boatmen。 Calard was unsure if the man was joking or not。
Within minutes； Calard was soaked to the skin； his hair clinging in long wet strands down his neck。
The journey through the fog seemed to last an eternity。 Strange noises echoed around them： creaks；
groans and distant screams that Calard guessed were seabirds but sounded distinctly human。 On more
than one occasion he was convinced he heard whispering voices nearby； but saw nothing。
Chlod gave a yelp at one point； and Calard glared at him。
‘I felt someone breathing on my neck；’ said Chlod； his voice strained。
‘You imagined it；’ said Calard。 ‘Be silent。’
Calard was starting to doubt the boatmen’s ability to guide the barge safely through the fog when the
sound of gravel scraping against the hull signalled their arrival on the shores of Mousillon。
The riverbank appeared like a mirage through the fog as the barge came to a grinding halt in the
shallows。 The land was rendered in shades of grey and hidden in mist； but a narrow strip of black sand
soon emerged forming a beach in front of them。
Clearly eager to be away； the boatmen unloaded the barge hastily。 There was a brief struggle to get
Chlod’s mule off the deck。 The obstinate beast was reluctant to step ashore； and the struggle only ended
after Calard slapped it hard on the flank。 His own steed was equally uneasy； but did as it was bid with
less complaint； stepping off the front of the vessel and splashing into the shallow black water。 Without a
word of farewell； the boatmen poled the barge off the river bank and were swallowed by the fog。
It was as dark as twilight； though it couldn’t have been an hour past midday。 Looking around them； it
seemed to Calard as if all colour had been bleached from the land。 The sun had been shining through the
clouds on the other side of the river； but it was nowhere to be seen here。 The grass and vegetation was
shrivelled and dead。 A lone tree stood nearby； its trunk twisted。 A raven the size of a small dog perched
on a leafless branch； watching them with its head cocked to one side。 Calard saw movement in the
corner of his eye； but whenever he turned to face it； it was gone。
‘We’re never leaving here alive；’ said Chlod。
Somewhere in the mist； a wolf began to howl。
IV
SOMETHING WAS HUNTING them。
They had barely halted； riding westwards through lonely； wind…swept landscapes and muddy fields
filled with rotting crops。 They had passed through a number of isolated peasant hamlets； but seen only
glimpses of the inhabitants peeking out at them through barred windows。
The haunted realm had at first seemed to exist in a permanent state of twilight； but the shadows
deepened as that twilight gave way to night。 With no visible moon or star in the sky overhead； the
darkness was soon all…consuming。 Only far beneath the Worlds Edge Mountains had Calard experienced
such utter blackness。 Lighting torches； they continued on through that first； nightmarish night。
The darkness was