Archer"s head slipped sideways and his last breath misted
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the steel arrow-head that lay unused in the quiver. Thane rose to his feet and leapt forward. Through blurring, angry tears Thane slashed with the dagger, cutting into the nearest Mghtbeast, and as the first drop of its blood splashed on to the cobbles the tattoo on Archer"s arm burned with a white fire, blinding the Nightbeasts, sending them stumbling into one another. Thane strode forward amongst them, slashing and stabbing, driven on by the terrible sight of Kyot"s father.
"I will build a wall of Nightmare dead! Carrion heaps to shadow the sun!" he cried, letting the rage and anger guide his dagger arm. Silence once again filled the courtyard, and the light from the tattoo began to fade. The shadows softened and grew deeper. Thane lowered the dagger and let the anger melt away. Before him, in a wide crescent, the Mghtbeasts lay piled to the height of his shoulders, and none had come within a dagger"s length of where Archer lay. The anger had now gone, he felt alone, empty and drained of strength. He shivered, drawing the ragged half-cloak tightly about his shoulders, and knelt beside Archer.
"I have killed the Nightbeasts. You can rest the watches of the night in peace," he whispered, unclasping the old man"s cloak and laying it across his body. Already the cold air had taken the warmth out of Archer"s flesh and the tattoo had faded to a soft phosph.o.r.escent glow.
A noise from the stable-yard made Thane freeze. Silently he rose, his hand on his dagger, and made to step across the courtyard, but as he left Archer"s side the tattoo flared brightly through the weave of the cloak and then faded back into a soft glow.
"Beyond death, this Wayhouse will be safe. None will dare enter while the tattoo glows!" he thought in wonder.
Widening his eyes against the darkness Thane entered the stable-yard and slipped the iron latch upon the long barn where the relay horses were stabled. Hooves clattered on the cobbles and somewhere in the shadows a horse snorted.
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There was fear in the horse, Thane could sense it, the silent fear of the hunted who, with bated breath and pounding heart, crouch waiting for the hunter to pa.s.s. Quietly Thane sought the spark he carried in his pocket, closed his fingers around it and lifted it high above his head, squeezing it into
life. White eyes flashed in the darkness. Hoofbeats crashed on the cobbles. Stumble, the last relay horse of the Wayhouse Tower, lowered his head to charge. Bright spark light reflected from the finely-woven battle coat that lay across his back and long shadows leapt up from the bow and the quiver of new-forged arrows fixed on to the pommel of the saddle.
Proudly he sprang forward.
"Stumble!" Thane cried, jumping out of the horse"s path. "It is Thane!"
Stumble stopped and turned, casting sparks with his near fore as he pawed the cobbles. "Have you forgotten me? I am Thane, Esteron"s rider, Kyot"s friend."
The horse hesitated, snorting, uncertain, the whites of his eyes still showing fear. Thane sheathed the dagger and walked forward, his empty hands outstretched, remembering the story Kyot had told him of how Archer had found Stumble wandering on the Greenway, an orphan foal, how he had taken him in and how every warrior loved him for his quiet courage.
"Your master is dead," he whispered, stroking the frightened horse. "He gave his life defending this house against the most terrible Nightmare that has ever walked Elundium."
Stumble whinnied, bowing his head, a great sadness filling his soft gentle eyes. "Will you help me?" Thane asked. "Will you carry me and follow the Master of Nightmares to seek revenge?"
Stumble arched his neck, stretching the battle plaits woven through his flowing mane and rubbed his muzzle against Thane"s arm, smelling the fabric of his ragged cloak and
remembering who stood before him.
"Come," whispered Thane, taking the reins in his hand,
"come and see the greatness of your master. See how in death he still protects his house!"
They stood together, side by side, in the main courtyard, and watched the tattoo"s warni colours glow blue and gold beneath Archer"s cloak. Stumble stretched his neck and brushed his lips on the old man"s cold cheek. Anger flashed in his eyes and his ears flattened against the side of his head.
"Take me to Woodsedge!" Thane urged, springing up into the saddle. "I know the Nightmare seeks to destroy that Wayhouse and steal Elionbel, the Keeper"s daughter!"
Thane ran his hand across Stumble"s shoulder until he reached the heavy steel-ringed battle coat. "We need speed to catch Krulshards and this battle coat will slow us down. Better to leave it here defending your master," he said, dismounting and loosening the girths. Gently Thane removed the heavy chainmail coat and spread it over Archer"s body. Before rising
from his knees he took the arm with the tattoo and laid it on top of the battle coat across the old man"s chest.
Stumble whinnied and stood quietly while Thane refitted the saddle and remounted. "Let us gallop to the Nightmare"s death," he shouted, wheeling Stumble towards the ruined doors and urging him into a canter.
"Wait!" he cried, reining the horse to a halt, "I must leave word for Kyot, his father pledged me to it."
Dismounting, he ran back into the courtyard, "How do I leave a message?" he asked the empty shadows, "How?"
86.
The Battle Council Breaks Up
"Candlefool! Base meddler!" Tombel shouted, red-faced, his hand upon the hilt of his Marching sword. Thoron stood before him, waiting for the rage to subside, waiting for Tombel to draw breath.
"I sent him to protect your daughter, Elionbel. It is his duty to repair the damage he did by taking her love token into the City of Night," Thoron answered, in a firm quiet voice.
"Love token!" Tombel hissed, stepping a pace nearer to Thoron. "Not only is he not blood-worthy to carry Elionbel"s token but now he has gone galloping off at the Nightmare"s heels and I ordered him to the Battle Council!"
Thunderstone stepped quickly between them, pushing both fighting blades down into the ground. "Warriors, warriors,"
he soothed, "this is not the place to settle differences of blood. All Elundium totters on the brink of ruin. We must act quickly, with bold purpose, to save the daylight."
"He is not brood-worthy," Tombel muttered, darkly, sheathing his Marching sword.
Thunderstone frowned, caught Tombel by the arm and turned him sharply towards the a.s.sembled warriors, whispering, "
You are the greatest Marcher Captain that Elundium has ever known and yet you cannot see past the end of your nose.
Thane is more than just the son of a Candleman, he is a leader of men, a force in the darkness stronger than any man at this Battle Council. He brings life to old legends and prophecies. Beware how you treat him!"
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aTombel shrugged and begrudgingly extended his hand towards Thoron. "We will settle this squabble in the privacy of the trophy room at Woodsedge when the siege lock- on the Granite City has been broken and Krulshards is no more."
Thoron reached out and took Tombel"s hand. "So be it!" he replied, adding, "If any Wayhouse stands for us to meet within!"
"Lord! Lord!" Kyot cried, turning all eyes towards the ancient road that lead down from the hut of thorns. "Esteron is on the
road, and my eyes tell me that he is gravely injured."
Four Warhorses led by Equestrius broke away from the crescent and galloped out across the Causeway to escort Esteron to the Battle Council. Slowly he pa.s.sed through the ranks of silent warriors who watched the morning sunlight shining on the steel links of Thane"s torn mail shirt where it protected his back and reflected the bright colours of the summer scarf that he had wound about the cruel spear blade in his flank.
"Esteron!" Thoron cried, unbinding the scarf to reveal the terrible spear wound.
"Call for the Healer!" Thunderstone shouted, cutting away the strips of cloak that held the metal shirt across the horse"s back.
Merion broke through the press of warriors and, without a word, led Esteron away into the fortress of Underfall. "It will take all my skill," he whispered to Esteron, as he set out a tray of cubed silver knives and needles threaded with twists of gold, "but I will make you whole again to run the Greenways."