intimacies, and to those who trod upon it. William was out there, staring towards Harold as
Harold now stared towards him.
There was no animosity, only an infinite sadness, and that gave Harold great comfort.
William had changed in this life, and that meant there was hope for the land. He may not have
changed enough, but he had begun that road.
Harold closed his eyes and thought of Caela…Eaving. He remembered the feel of her
body, he remembered her scent.
He remembered how she had smiled into his eyes, and blessed him.
Whatever happened, all would be well.
Eventually.
The sound of horses‘ hooves behind Harold disturbed him, and he looked to see who it
was.
One of the English earls, come to receive orders about deploying what was left of their
ragged army.
―We will make our stand here,‖ Harold said, pointing along the ridge. ―The escarpments
to either side mean that William can only attack us from the front. He cannot outflank us. We can
make a good defensive stand here, my friend.‖
―We will win the day,‖ the earl said, but Harold could hear the bravado in his voice.
―Of course we will,‖ said Harold.
Swanne also stood, secreted within the edges of a dark grove, staring across at Hastings.
Like Harold she could sense William‘s presence and feel his vitality, but unlike Harold it was not
her connection with the land which enabled her to do this, but her ability with the darkcraft.
Asterion moved up behind her, running his hands from her shoulders down her arms.
She nestled back against him. ―Bless you,‖ she murmured.
He smiled. ―The darkcraft suits you. Imagine how much better you shall feel once
William is dead.‖
―Soon.‖
―Oh yes, soon.‖
Asterion‘s fingers kneaded slightly at her arms. She was thin now, the imp within her
continuing to sap away at her vitality. But she remained beautiful, and Asterion had no doubt that
William, the fool, would not last for more than a few moments against her writhings and
pleadings.
―He will be yours within a day,‖ he murmured, his muzzle buried within Swanne‘s dark,
curling hair. ―This time tomorrow you will be in his bed, trapping him with your dark power.‖
With my imp, he thought. Finally working its vile talents to its full potential.
Poor, dead William.
Swanne shuddered. ―I cannot bear the thought of lying with him.‖
Asterion‘s fingers tightened where they rested on her upper arms. ―You must. It is the
only means by which to kill him and utterly negate his power.‖
―Asterion, my love, I don‘t really know if I can bear to—‖
“You will lie with him!”
She cried out, stunned, and one of her hands fluttered to her belly. Why was the imp
nibbling now, when Aldred was not here?
―Yes,‖ she said, her voice dulled. ―I will lie with him. If that is what you wish.‖
―Blessed woman,‖ Asterion said, kissing her neck. ―You will scream with pleasure. You
will.”
She moaned, her body relaxing back against his. ―Aye, I will do that for you.‖
―But,‖ Asterion whispered, his hands now running all over her body, ―the pleasure will
be as nothing compared to what we will feel together, as one, when we finally take the Game.‖
She moaned again, and turned in the circle of his arms, and offered him her mouth. There
was nothing left now but her need for Asterion, and the thought of the power she would enjoy
with him when they led the Game.
Eaving.
The word came as a low moan, a breath on the wind, and it made Caela shiver. She was
standing atop Pen Hill, staring south, feeling the swirling emotions that came from the land about
Hastings. Harold was there, and William, but so also were Asterion and Swanne.
“Eaving.”
She turned her head, very slightly. A Sidlesaghe stood a pace or two to one side. No,
several of them, gathering about her on the breeze.
“Eaving!”
―What may I do for you?‖ she murmured.
―We beg your aid,‖ said Long Tom, stepping forth.
―You have it, you know that.‖
―Now that you have achieved your union with the land,‖ Long Tom said, ―have you felt
it?‖
Caela did not have to ask him what he meant. ―The dark stain in its soul,‖ she said. ―The
tilt in the Game. Yes, I have felt it. Asterion‘s hold over Swanne, over the Mistress of the
Labyrinth. The shadow that hangs over us all. What can I do?‖
―There are two more bands left.‖
―Aye.‖
―Eaving,‖ said another Sidlesaghe. ―Shelter them.‖
―Move them?‖ said Caela.
―No,‖ said Long Tom. ―Shelter them.‖
―Moving the bands may not be enough,‖ said one other Sidlesaghe. ―They can still be
found. William can always find them. And if William…if William…‖
―If William is trapped by Swanne and Asterion?‖
―Aye,‖ said Long Tom. ―Eaving, there are two final bands. Will you shelter them?‖
―From William as much as from Asterion,‖ said Caela.
―Aye. In case. Just in case.‖
She thought a long time, staring sightlessly south, feeling all that the land told her.
―There is a way,‖ she said finally, not yet knowing that this simple decision would prove
her salvation in the darkness ahead.
In Rouen Matilda lay abed. She slept restlessly, the bed covers twisting around her body,
her dark hair working its way free of its braids and tangling on the pillow, her face covered in
light perspiration, one of her hands fluttering over her rounded belly.
In her dreams, Matilda walked a strange and unknown landscape. About her tumbled the
ruins of a once-great city. Columns and walls lay in piles of masonry, flames flickering from
fires which still burned within them; dismembered bodies sprawled in sickening heaps; a pall of
thick, noxious smoke hung over the entire terrible landscape.
She did not recognise the city. The architecture (what she could see of it amid the ruins)
was of an unknown and exotic form, and the bodies which lay on the ground were clothed in
armour and held weapons of a type she had not seen before. This was somewhere she had never
visited, and even within her dream, Matilda wondered at the power of her imagination that it
could conjure this vision to disrupt her dreams.
Matilda walked carefully, avoiding as best she could the tumbled masonry and the
bodies. She turned a corner and came upon a cleared space.
She halted, transfixed by the sight before her.
A stag lay in the centre of a clear space. He was magnificent, larger than any stag she had
ever seen before, with a pure white pelt and a full spread of blood-red antlers.
―You are a king,‖ she said, and the stag blinked at her as if it were suddenly aware of her
presence.
Matilda looked away, studying the rest of the space. Initially she had thought the area
was completely clear. Now she could see that it wasn‘t. A Labyrinth had been carved into the
entire circular space—
Matilda”s mind instantly leapt to that strange gift her husband had sent Edward—the ball
of golden string that unwound into a Labyrinth—and to the Labyrinth be had told her was carved into the golden bands he thought might he in the possession of either Caela or Swanne.
—and the stag lay within its heart. In front of the stag, also within the heart of the
Labyrinth, were carved letters. They had been dug deep into the stone of the Labyrinth floor, and
had been filled with red paint, or perhaps blood.
Matilda stepped forward, not fearful, curious to see what the word was.
RESURGAM
Matilda frowned, for she knew her Latin well enough. I will rise again?
The stag began to move, struggling to rise, and its movement distracted Matilda. She
raised her eyes to the stag, pitying the creature, for no matter how greatly he struggled, he did not
seem to be able to rise to his feet.
Then the stag paused in his struggles, his ears flickering as if he heard something, and his
glorious head twisted so it looked over his shoulder. He trembled, and his struggling doubled,
and a sense of great dread came over Matilda.
―What…?‖ she said, and the stag turned his head to her, and looked at her with black
eyes that Matilda instantly recognised, and it said: Begone from here, Matilda. Begone!
―William,‖ she whispered, and stretched out her hands…
Begone! the stag screamed in her mind, and Matilda wailed, and then she also screamed,
for out of the tumbled ruins that bordered the open space behind the stag crawled an abomination
such as Matilda had never dreamed before.
It was a gigantic snake, or a lizard, she could not tell, but it had a sinuous, writhing body
covered in black scales, and a head with a mouth so vast and filled with fangs that Matilda
understood it could eat entire cities (and had indeed eaten this one, which is why it lay in ruins