Gemmell, David – Morningstar

The clouds gathered and it began to rain – thin, icy needles, driven by the wind, instantly soaking through our clothes. Lightning forked across the northern sky and soon the ground below our feet became sodden and we walked ankle-deep in mud. After about an hour we finally crossed the valley floor and began the long climb through wooded hills until we reached the far crest and gazed down on a second valley and a small lake, black as

jet. Beside it was a ruined keep, its walls crumbling, its gates sagging and rotten. The style was ancient, the towers square-built, not round as with Angostin architecture.

‘You know who built that keep?’ asked Wulf.

‘Don’t say it!’ warned Jarek Mace. ‘All I know is that we are going to be warm and dry for the night. And I don’t care if it was built by the devil himself. I’m soaked through, cold and in evil temper. So keep your mouth shut and let’s get in there and start a fire.’It’ll be haunted,’ whispered Wulf to me as we followed Mace down into the valley. ‘Mark my words.’But at that moment Wulf slipped in the mud and slid down the hillside past Jarek Mace. For a moment we watched in stunned silence, then Mace’s laughter roared out above the rain. ‘Give my regards to the Vampyre Kings!’ he yelled as the hunchback hurtled towards the keep.

The sight was so ludicrous that all fear fled from me and I bent double, laughing fit to burst. Even Ilka was smiling as we followed the hunchback down, finding him sitting at the foot of the hill staring at his broken bow.

‘We’ll buy a new one at the next town,’ said Jarek Mace, but Wulf was inconsolable.

‘Best I’ve ever had,’ he muttered. ‘Had it blessed by the Abbess. It’s never let me down before. Witchcraft, that’s what it is!’You fell on it!’ said Mace. ‘That’s not witchcraft, that’s just clumsiness.’Wulf shook his head. ‘It was blessed,’ he repeated. ‘Nothing blessed can survive in this place. That’s why no one lives here, no crops grow. Even the trees are covered with mildew, and most are rotten.’I’m not listening to any more of this,’ snapped Mace, walking through the stone gates.

We followed him across a paved courtyard. The stones were uneven, grass pushing up between them. The rain hissed down, the castle walls gleaming in the faint light that pierced the clouds. Lightning flashed across the sky, sending dancing shadows behind the broken columns to our left.

Jarek Mace climbed the steps leading to the hall of the keep and

kicked the rotted doors, the wood splintering and falling to the thick dust beyond, which rose like smoke around his boots. A rat scurried for shelter, and then we were inside.

‘Make light, Owen,’ ordered Mace.

I sent a small shining sphere floating into the hall.

The floor was wooden and I stepped gingerly upon it, but it seemed solid enough.

For me it was – but not for Piercollo.

Advancing into the middle of the hall he let fall his pack, which hit the floor with a resounding thud. This was followed by a sudden creaking, then a series of explosive cracks – and the Tuscanian disappeared from sight.

Chapter Seven

With great care Mace, Wulf and I eased our way across the floor to the jagged hole. I brought the sphere of light closer and we lay on our bellies gazing down into a pit some twelve feet deep. Piercollo lay stunned, his pack beside him. The light did not penetrate far and I could see little more save that one of the joists had given way, leaving the timbers with no support where Piercollo had fallen.

‘There must be another way down,’ said Mace.

Til find it,’ Wulf told him, moving back from the hole.

‘He might be dead,’ I whispered.

‘More likely a broken leg,’ Mace told me. ‘We’ll soon know. Stay here and call me if he wakes.’Where are you going?’Tm going to build a fire. I’m cold and I’m hungry. Wulf will find the way in below, then we’ll get him out.’Piercollo lay unmoving and I watched Mace cross the hall to a huge hearth where he gathered tinder and splinters of rotten wood. The Tuscanian groaned and stirred.

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