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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　registe