that he had bumped into at the bar。
Perhaps sensing someone watching him； the knight looked up； but by the time he did； Calard had
already gone。
VI
AN HOUR LATER； the knight made his way up the narrow staircase to his room。 He unlocked the door；
which opened with a drawn…out creak。 It was dark within； and he cursed。 He had left a lamp burning low
on the table within； but a draught must have blown it out。 Leaving the door ajar so that he could see by
the light in the hallway； he moved towards the table。
The door clicked shut abruptly； and darkness swallowed him。 He spun around on his heel； reaching
for his blade。 It was half…drawn when the tip of a sword touched his throat； and he froze。
‘Sheathe it；’ said a voice from the darkness。 The gaunt…featured knight scowled but did as he was
bid。 The shutters of a lamp were opened； and the knight squinted against the glare。
‘Sit；’ said Calard。 He forced the knight back with the point of his sword； making him sink into a
moth…eaten chair。 To his credit； the dishonoured knight showed no fear。 ‘Put your hands behind your
head；’ Calard said。 The knight gave Calard a long look。
‘You are making a mistake；’ the knight said； placing his hands casually behind his head。 His voice
was coarse； little more than a growl。 Calard lifted the man’s chin with the point of his blade； exposing a
jagged scar that reached across his throat from ear to ear。
‘Nice scar；’ said Calard。
‘I’m alive；’ growled the knight。 ‘The same cannot be said for the whoreson who gave it to me。’
‘What is your name？’
‘Raben；’ said the knight。 ‘Who the hell are you？’
‘You are going to anse； Raben。’
‘You’re the one with the sword。’
‘You are one of Merovech’s knights？’
‘You already know the answer to that。’
‘Where is he； then？’
‘You honestly don’t know？’ said Raben。
‘If I did； I wouldn’t need you； outcast；’ said Calard。
‘Outcast； is it？ Oh that hurts；’ said Raben。
‘Where？’ said Calard。 A trickle of blood ran from Raben’s throat。
‘The ducal palace of Mousillon city；’ he said in his gravelly voice。 ‘He does proclaim himself to be
the long lost ruler of this realm； after all。’
‘The mad duke was killed centuries years ago；’ hissed Calard。
‘Who am I to dispute his claim？’ said Raben。 ‘I’m just an outcast。’
‘Indeed。’
‘Is that it？’ said Raben。 ‘Are we done？’
Calard lowered his sword； and the dispossessed knight let down his hands。 Without warning； Calard
slammed the heavy pommel of his sword into the side of Raben’s head。 He fell sidewards from his chair
and hit the floor； unconscious。
‘We are done；’ said Calard。
CHLOD AWOKE WITH a start； his heart pounding。 It took him a moment to remember where he was： the
stable of Morr’s Rest。 He lay there in the rotting hay； breathing hard。 The sound came again – something
like a heavy chunk of wood being dropped to the ground。
A shaft of torchlight seeped in from the courtyard outside through a knothole in the wall。 Chlod
squatted alongside it； squinting through the gap。
At first he saw nothing untoward。 The courtyard of the inn was deserted。 His eye swept the
compound； and at last settled on the gatehouse。 He frowned。
The shadows beneath the archway were dark； but even so he could see that the gate was open。 The
heavy locking bars were on the ground。 Sealed； nothing short of a battering ram would be able to breach
those gates； but they had been flung wide； an open invitation to the creatures beyond。
For a moment； Chlod half…considered a mad dash across the courtyard to lock the gates； for he
knew well the horrors that lurked outside。 However； he was no hero； and they would have been too
heavy for him alone anyway。 He stayed put； rooted in fear； staring at the gate in silent dread。
For long minutes he watched； barely daring to breathe。 After what seemed an eternity； he saw a
shadow appear； and the hairs on the back of his neck rose。
The dark shape hugged the ground； moving low。 It paused at the edge of the torchlight； then edged
forwards。 Chlod saw a pallid face atop a scrawny； malnourished body。 Bones were starkly visible
beneath its skin。 It sniffed the air like an animal； then hissed over its shoulder。 Rising from the ground into
a low crouch； the starving peasant padded warily into the courtyard of Morr’s Rest； hands twitching。
A second peasant came through behind the first； a filthy bearded man carrying a rusted plough blade。
More followed。 Chlod’s heart was hammering loudly in his chest； but he could not tear himself away from
his spy…hole。
He froze as one of the peasants came within feet of him； separated only by the thin overlapping
planks of the barn wall。 This one was a foul creature； barely human at all。 It came to a halt and cocked its
head to one side； nostrils flaring。 Chlod could make out the fine web of blue veins beneath its skin； and
could smell its animal stink。 It turned and stared straight at him。 Chlod’s heart skipped a beat as it saw
him。 It grinned； exposing stained； jagged teeth。
Chlod fell away from the wall with a gasp； scrambling backwards。 He heard footsteps inside the
stable； and the horses and ponies began whinnying and kicking in their stalls。 His master’s warhorse was
trembling； ears flat against its skull。
A scream close by made him jump。 It was cut short； ending in the strangled gargle of someone dying。
Chlod’s breathing was coming in frantic gasps； and his hands were shaking。 Creeping forwards； he
peered around the corner of the stall； looking out towards the entrance to the stables。 He saw a handful
of hunched peasants making their way up the aisle towards him。 Their heads were low and swung from
side to side； like dogs seeking a scent。 He ducked back into the stall before he was seen。
‘Ranald； protect me；’ he said under his breath； invoking the trickster god of luck； benefactor of
thieves； gamblers and ne’er…do…wells the Old World over。 He turned around on the spot； undecided as
to his best course of action。 He considered hiding under the loose straw on the floor； but there wasn’t
enough to adequately conceal him； and the peasants would surely sniff him out。 He thought about
mounting his master’s warhorse and riding free； but he doubted that he would have been able to haul
himself up upon its back anyway； let alone ride it。 And if he did somehow survive； his master would
surely see him hang for sullying the noble beast。
He backed away into the far corner of the stall； edging past the powerful destrier。 The horse’s
muscles were twitching； it knew that predators approached。 The feral peasants would be only yards
away now； and Chlod bit his lip； indecision paralysing him。
A shadow appeared in the open stall gate； and the warhorse shuffled uneasily； snorting。 Without
thinking； Chlod slapped the horse hard on the rump。
‘Yah！’ he shouted； and the warhorse reared； smashing the stall gate to splinters。 It leapt forwards；
hooves clattering loudly； and Chlod glimpsed several figures throwing themselves aside。 The destrier
slipped on the cobblestones and half…fell； before righting itself and bolting for the courtyard。
Grabbing his spiked club from his meagre pile of belongings； Chlod dropped to hands and knees and
started crawling frantically under the barriers separating the stalls。 As he scrabbled through the rotten
straw and horse manure； he saw the slapping feet of the feral peasants running up the aisle。
He was almost trampled by an immense draught horse in one stall and barely avoided being kicked
by a panicked pony in another。 With a deep breath he hurled himself under the last barrier and scrambled
to his feet； glancing behind him for signs of pursuit。
He nearly ran headlong into one of the peasants； who was crouched over the body of the stableboy。
It was feeding； mouth caked with blood。 Chlod could not halt his forward momentum； and bowled into
the cannibalistic peasant。 His knee cracked it in the face； and Chlod was sent sprawling on the ground at
the stable’s entrance。
In a heartbeat he was back on his feet and running。 He risked a glance behind him and saw the
peasant stagger to its feet。 It leapt after him； hair streaming wildly as it bounded along on all fours。 More
of the cannibalistic inbreds were streaming through the open gates； and Chlod saw right away that he had
no chance of escape there。 He angled his awkward； limping run towards the inn itself； knowing that his
best chance of survival now lay with Calard。
‘Master！’ he screamed as he ran。 ‘Master！’
At any moment he expected to be dragged down； but he made it across the courtyard and staggered
up onto the inn’s covered stoop； breathing hard。 He was just feet from the door when a weight landed on
his back； bearing him to the ground。 The air exploded from his lungs and he lost his grip on his spiked
maul； which clattered out of reach。
He was pinned to the ground； and though he fought like a wild animal； he could not dislodge the
hissing peasant。 Bony hands grasped his skull； and he felt nails biting deep into his scalp。 He screamed
wordlessly； neck muscles straining to resist as his head was lifted high； then slammed down with brutal
force。 White hot pain blossomed。 Dazed； Chlod registered his head being lifted again。 In moments； his
skull would be pulverised； his brain matter splattered across the stoop。
Blinking heavily； unable to focus； he vaguely saw the door to the inn swing open before him。 He saw
a shadow emerge； and a flash of silver。
Calard took the peasant’s head off with a double…handed sweep of his broadsword。 The headless
corpse slumped forwards over Chlod； blood pumping from its neck。
‘Up！’ shouted Calard； grabbing Chlod by back of his flea…ridden tunic and dragging him to his feet。
His manservant’s legs were unsteady； unable yet to support his weight； and he flopped back to the
ground； struggling to focus。 Blood was dripping from his forehead。 Swearing； Calard adjusted his grip on
his manservant； then hurled him bodily through the door of the inn。 He kicked the club through after him；
then spun back to face the courtyard as three rabid peasants hurled themselves at him。
He cut the first down with a heavy blow that shattered its ribcage； and sliced the second from groin
to sternum with the return sweep。 The third leapt on him； scratching and biting； but he threw it off；
sending it crashing into the wall of the inn。 It dropped to its knees； and before it could recover Calard
stepped in close and brought the pommel of his sword down onto its head； killing it instantly。
Seeing dozens of the creatures swarming across the courtyard towards him； Calard stepped back
inside the inn and slammed the door shut。 He threw his weight against it。
‘Chlod； the locks！’
A heavy impact struck the door； almost dislodging Calard。 He gritted his teeth as his heels began
sliding across the floor。 The door was forced open a fraction； and claw…like hands reached around the
edge。
Chlod picked up his spiked cudgel from the floor and bashed at the clutching hands； breaking bones
and crushing fingers。
The door slammed shut and Chlod slid first the upper lock home； then the lower one。 Breathing hard；
Calard stepped away from the door； his sword levelled towards it。 It shook violently； but held。
‘What in Mo