The Charnel Prince Read Free Page A

directions at once.
    They did not reach Sir Oneu in time. A rock hit Ehawk in the shoulder; several struck Martyn, one in the head. He swayed for just an instant, but kept in his saddle.
    “Follow me,” Martyn told Ehawk. “Do not flinch.”
    He wheeled his horse away from his two brothers and plunged off the trail. Dazed, Ehawk never considered disobeying. Martyn’s sword whirled too quickly to be seen, and the monk had chosen his direction wisely, picking the point where the attackers were thinnest. Beyond the battle was a broad stream.
    They plunged into the water, and their steeds sank deep and began to swim. They managed the other side, where the slope was gentle and their mounts found purchase.
    A look back showed their attackers already following.
    Martyn reached over and took Ehawk by the shoulder. “News of this must reach the praifec. Do you understand? Praifec Hespero, in Eslen. It’s much for me to ask of you, but you must swear to do it.”
    “Eslen? I can’t go to Eslen. It’s too far, and I don’t know the way.”
    “You must. You must, Ehawk. I lay it as a dying
geis
on you.” Several of their pursuers splashed into the stream, swimming clumsily.
    “Go with me,” Ehawk desperately begged. “I cannot do it without you.”
    “I’ll follow if I can, but I must hold them here, and you must ride as hard as that horse will take you. Here.” He detached a pouch from his belt and thrust it into Ehawk’s hand. “There’s coin there, not much. Spend it wisely. Within is also a letter with a seal. That will get you before the praifec. Tell him what we’ve seen here. Do not fail. Now go!”
    Then he had to turn to meet the first of the madmen emerging from the stream. He split the fellow’s skull like a melon, then shifted his footing and prepared to meet the next.
    “Go!” he shouted, without looking back. “Or we all have died in vain.”
    Something snapped in Ehawk then, and he spurred his horse and rode until the mare stumbled in exhaustion. Even then, he did not stop, but kept the poor beast at what pace it could maintain. Sobs tore from his chest until it ached, and then the stars came out.
    He rode always west, for he knew it was somewhere in that direction that Eslen lay.

PART I

    SHADOW DAYS

     
    The Year 2,223 of Everon
    The Month of Novmen

     
    The last day of Otavmen is the day of Saint Temnos. The first six days in Novmen are, in their turn, Saint Dun, Saint Under, Saint Shade, Saint Mefitis, Saint Gavriel, and Saint Halaqin. Taken together, these are the Shadow Days, where the World of the Quick meets the World of the Dead.
    —from
The Almanack of Presson Manteo

     

     

     
    And after twelve long months he grieved
    His lover’s ghost rose from the deep
    What do you want from me my love
    That troubles my eternal sleep?
    I want a kiss, oh love of mine
    A single kiss from thee
    And then I’ll trouble you no more
    I’ll let you sleep in peace
    My breath is ice and sea my love
    My lips are cold as clay
    And if you kiss my salt wet lips
    You’ll never live another day
    —from “The Drowned Lover,” a folk song of Virgenya

CHAPTER ONE

     
    He shall be cursed to live, and thus bring ruin to life.
    —translated from the Taflks
Taceis
or Book of
Murmurs

     
The Night

     
    NEIL MEQVREN RODE with his queen down a dark street in the city of the dead. The tattoo of their horses’ hooves was drowned by hail shattering on lead cobbles. The wind was a dragon heaving its misty coils and lashing its wet tail. Ghosts began to stir, and beneath Neil’s burnished breastplate, beneath his chilled skin and cage of bone, worry clenched.
    He did not mind the wind or frozen rain. His homeland was Skern, where the frost and the sea and the clouds were all the same, where ice and pain were the simplest facts of life. The dead did not bother him either.
    It was the living he feared, the knives and darts the dark and weather hid from his merely human eyes. It would take so little to kill