Woodsedge
Branch fingers scratched against the windows of Woodsedge, rattling and tapping in the chill evening breeze. Martbel shivered and drew her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and, for the hundredth time since the noon bell had
rung, she looked along the Greenway that ran past the Wayhouse close to the eaves of the black forest. "I was against it," she muttered, fretting with the shawl"s edge. "Night is no time to wander out of doors." Behind her a server coughed, hovering in the doorway. "We will wait," Martbel called out, without taking her eyes off the darkening strip of Greenway turf that led towards the Granite City.
"Elton," she whispered, s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the shawl between her fingers.
Far off, three shadows broke away from the forest gloom, hurrying towards the Wayhouse. Silver laughter rang out clearly in the evening light.
"Elton! Elion!" Martbel shouted, throwing open the Wayhouse door.
Laughing and teasing, Arbel and Rubel raced their sister the last league to Woodsedge and tumbled, fresh-faced and breathless, on to the cool flagstones of the great hall. Martbel stood before them, her face dark with anger.
"You fools!" she scolded, pointing through the open door to the forest eaves. "Listen! Nightbeasts are close at hand. Your father charged you to keep the Wayhouse safe and hold the Greenway open for his return. You spend the
days in idle foolishness, risking your sister"s life in silly games!"
The laughter died away. Arbel shuffled, blushing, and unbuckled his broad Marching sword. "Mother . . ." he began, but she glared him into silence and turned hard eyes on to Elionbel.
"The Wayhouse should have been locked and bolted long ago. You have risked all our lives with your foolishness."
Elionbel hung her head and offered up a basket of sweet-smelling forest fruits. "Arbel and Rubel were guarding me while I collected these for our table."
Martbel"s face softened as she took the basket. "You are a foolish girl, Elion. Light-headed with flights of fancy, always dreaming, you are leagues away from the dangerous world you live in. Beware, child!" Beyond the forest"s edge a Nightbeast roared, cutting short Martbel"s anger. She dropped the basket and threw her weight against the door, slamming it home.
"Bolt and bar the shutters," she cried, drawing the short sword she carried from her belt and bracing herself for the Nightbeasts" attack.
Elionbel and her brothers raced from window to window, making the Wayhouse safe, shutting out the last shades of evening light. The Wayhouse Candleman hurried into the Great Hall, a spark blazing in his hand, and went from wick to wick, filling the hall with soft yellow light.
"We will eat as we stand, armed and ready," Martbel ordered, calling all the servers into the safety of the hall and bolting the outer doors. "The Nightbeasts are on the Greenway and it will not take them long to realize we are alone and defenceless."
"Mother!" Rubel cried, striking sparks off the stone chimney breast with his Marching sword. "Arbel and I will defend the Wayhouse. We are Marchers; pledged to it by our father!"
Martbel smiled, "I know you are Marchers, proud and brave, but you are only two against a swarm of shadows that
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goes beyond my skill to count. Listen! They are gathering all around us.
"If Thane were here with us he would drive the Nightbeasts away," Elionbel said, smiling as she remembered how he fought his way across the hollow to rescue her, but it seemed so long ago now, even the scars from the Nightbeasts" teeth on her hands had paled beneath new skin.
Martbel frowned at Elionbel, shushing her into silence.
"Count with me, girl," she ordered Elionbel to put away her memories of Thane and listen to the Nightbeasts roaring on the Greenway"s edge. One, two, three, they were getting closer, crowding in with the darkness.
"Light the stairhead fire," Martbel whispered to Elionbel, "and set branding irons to warm in it. Arbel, Rubel, arm the servers."
"There are at least twenty Nightbeasts!" Elionbel called out softly from the stairhead. "I can see them through the cas.e.m.e.nt slits in the bell tower. They are leaving the eaves of the forest to ring the Wayhouse!"
Martbel quietly threw more logs on to the hall fire, making it blaze halfway up the chimney. "We will eat now," she ordered, "before the night attack."
Rubel tried to laugh but failed to mask his nervousness as he carved thick chunks of cold nightboar and filled the waiting plates. Elionbel pushed her plate away but Martbel insisted that she ate. "Strength for the night ahead," she whispered, splitting a hard-skinned yellow apple on the blade of her sword.
"But the noise of them screaming ties my stomach in a knot," Elionbel whispered.
"Eat!" commanded her mother, listening to the Nightbeasts drawing closer. Elionbel closed her eyes and chewed on the coa.r.s.e dark meat. She swallowed and filled her fork again.
The taste and smell of the meat reminded her of the Nightbeasts in that awful hollow, pawing and touching her, breathing their foul odour in her face. Choking, she pushed
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the plate away, drew the long dagger from her belt and tested the blade by cutting a deep groove in the stairhead bannister.
"You will not take me again," she hissed, gripping the hilt of her dagger hard enough to make her knuckles turn white.
"They are upon us," Arbel cried, leaping backwards a pace, away from the Wayhouse door as it shook and rattled, bulging inwards.
Rubel dropped the carving knife and quickly moved across the hall to take his place, a sword"s length from his brother.
"Ready," he whispered, as they raised their Marching swords, gripping them to strike.
Elionbel stoked the stairhead fire and re-arranged the branding irons to glow sparkling white beneath the logs before she ran down the broad stairway and took her place beside her mother. Both held a long Marcher spear, the b.u.t.t firmly placed against the third stair-riser, the sharp pearshaped blades pointing towards the main doorway. Behind them at each stairtread the servers crouched, swords and spears glittering in the candlelight.
"One stroke only, boys, and then retreat to the stairway,"
Martbel called anxiously to her sons as the door shook violently, splintering on its hinges.
Nightmare screams rose to a deafening pitch as the Nightbeasts hurled themselves against the Wayhouse. Window gla.s.s shattered, the shutters flew splintering across the Great Hall. The iron-studded door shuddered, bulged and burst apart.
"Sing! Sing!" shouted Rubel, feeling the icy strength of hatred flooding through his veins. "Keep these monsters out of Woodsedge!"
Hideous Nightbeast shapes were crowding through the broken doorway and spilling over the window sills.
"Elundium . . . a place of sunlight hours . . ." Arbel sang at the top of his voice, lunging forward and slashing his blade at the cruel spears and wicked razor-sharp claws that reached out towards him.
"One stroke only," Martbel shouted above the Nightbeast roar.
Elionbel watched, horror-stricken, as her brothers waded