sat a massive round table that, according to legend, was made from a single section of an
immense oak tree which had stood on the site of the palace many hundreds of years before.
The moment they stepped into the stone chamber the three men sensed the tension among
those present. There were five men sitting at the table, Priam, Borneheld, Earl Isend of
Skarabost, Duke Roland of Aldeni and Earl Jorge of Avonsdale. Behind Borneheld stood his
lieutenant, Gautier, while Duke Roland‘s lieutenant, Nevelon, stood behind his lord‘s chair.
There were no servants in the Council chamber—unusual, because normally Priam had at least
one clerk present to record the discussions and decisions of the King‘s Privy Council. Nor was
this a full meeting of the Privy Council, which normally contained the nine lords of the provinces
and their advisers. The significance of those who were present was not lost on either Jayme or
Axis. Borneheld, Duke of Ichtar and WarLord of Achar; the darkly handsome but foppish Earl
Isend and the bulky Duke Roland, the lords of the two provinces that lay directly below Ichtar;
and the wiry and grey-headed Earl Jorge, a cunning and experienced campaigner with a lifetime
of advice to give. This was nothing less than a war council consisting of the most senior
commanders in Achar as well as those lords whose provinces would be most affected by any
incursions into Ichtar.
Isend and Roland looked visibly relieved to see them enter, as though the previous few
minutes had been spent in uncomfortable silence. Borneheld looked darkly resentful at Axis‘
presence, Jorge looked impatient, and Priam looked so haggard that Axis wondered if
night-demons were invading his sleep as well.
Priam nodded at Jayme and Axis and waved them towards two chairs. Moryson stood a
few feet behind his Brother-Leader‘s chair, waiting to be called upon if needed.
Jayme inclined his head towards Priam. ―My apologies if we have kept you waiting,
Priam.‖ As spiritual leader of Achar, Jayme felt he was the King‘s equal and rarely accorded him
his title, something that grated with Priam.
Borneheld broke in before Priam could speak. ―Is it necessary for the Brother-Leader‘s
lackies to attend this Council, sire?‖
―Borneheld, the BattleAxe is here at my invitation, and I have no objection if Moryson
stays,‖ Priam said, passing a hand over his reddened eyes. Now that Axis was closer he could
swear that Priam had hardly slept the previous night. His face had deep lines carved from nose to
mouth, his auburn curls hung loose and unattended, and his clothes had the look of garments
hastily thrown on simply to avoid nakedness. Not the fastidious Priam‘s normal appearance.
Axis grew more apprehensive.
Priam took a deep breath and sat up in his high-backed chair, his hands splayed out on the
table before him, his eyes studiously avoiding those of the other men about the table.
―Let us begin, and let us not waste words,‖ he said quietly. ―We all know of the troubles
in the northernmost regions of Ichtar, and the reported sightings of the Forbidden by the villagers
of Smyrton near the Forbidden Valley. Lord Magariz lost close to ninety good men while on
patrol from Gorkenfort this past winter. Whatever attacked them has also devastated the
Ravensbundmen. Over the past six months many thousands of them have been moving into
northern Ichtar through Gorken Pass. Whatever we may think of the Ravensbundmen—‖
―Carrion-eating barbarians,‖ Earl Jorge muttered.
―—we know they are not cowards,‖ Priam finished, as though he had not been
interrupted. ―Attacks on patrols have eased over the past months, have they not, Borneheld?‖
Borneheld nodded. ―I heard from Magariz last week. Over summer, such as it was, he
lost only three men. But over the past two weeks the number of Ravensbundmen moving down
from the north has increased dramatically. At the same time the weather is deteriorating badly in
the north. Perhaps coincidence, perhaps not.‖
―And now winter stands before us again,‖ Axis said quietly. He looked up from the table
where his fingers had been idly tracing the ancient whorls in the wood.
Borneheld stared at him as Priam spoke again, his voice stronger. ―Borneheld, you are the
only one of us who has been to Gorkenfort. We would appreciate your understanding of what is
going on there.‖
Borneheld shifted in his chair and deliberately addressed his answer to every man at the
table but Axis. ―No man has seen anything like this before. A foe who lives and breathes the
winter, who has no form or substance, who advertises his presence only with a whisper on the
wind. A foe who laughs at naked steel and who has no respect for the bravery of soldiers. A foe
who apparently despises a clean kill and who prefers to inflict as much pain as possible; harrying
his victim over hours, watching him bleed to death by degrees rather than killing with a clean
stroke. The Ravensbundmen say that it feeds as much off its victims‘ fear as it does off their
flesh. What is it we face? I do not know. All I know is that, no matter the skill, bravery and
determination of those who have faced it, no-one has ever killed one of them. If they ever come
in force, Artor help us.‖
Earl Isend shifted in his seat. ―You‘ve been sending more soldiers to Gorkenfort over the
past weeks, Borneheld.‖
―Yes. I have to anticipate that they‘ll come back with the winter snows.‖
Priam slowly rested his face in his hands on the table, and Axis glanced worriedly at him,
but Priam looked up after a moment. His eyes looked even worse. ―Do you think these creatures
are the Forbidden?‖ he asked Jayme. ―Is this what we face?‖
Axis had never seen Jayme look lost for words, but he did so now. ―I am embarrassed to
say that I do not know, Priam. It has been so long, a thousand years, since they were penned
behind the Fortress Ranges and in the Icescarp Alps. Most of the ancient lore regarding them has
been lost or is hidden in riddles. But if you want an answer, then, yes, I am afraid to the very
depths of my being that these are the Forbidden. What else could they be?‖
―Achar, Ichtar, stands in dire peril and you sit there and weep and wail and say, very
sorry, but it‘s been too long! You can‘t remember! Then tell me, Brother-Leader,‖ Borneheld
snarled, half rising out of his seat as he leaned menacingly across the table, ―of what use are you
when it is my men dying out there in the snow? Do you think mumbled platitudes will stop the
Forbidden? Have they forgotten exactly what it is they hunt?‖
Jayme flinched, but waved Axis back as he started to rise from his chair. ―I feel as
frustrated as you do, Borneheld, and I can only assure you that I and the entire Seneschal will do
everything in our power to assist you.‖
Even Axis, much as he hated to admit it to himself, felt the inadequacy of Jayme‘s reply.
Moryson shifted slightly behind his Brother-Leader as if he meant to step forward in Jayme‘s
defence, but thought better of it as Borneheld glared at him.
Priam held a hand in the air. ―There is more I have to tell you, and I have found it hard to
find the courage to speak of it.‖
Every eye in the chamber fixed itself on the King.
Priam stared straight ahead, avoiding eye contact, his features looking even more
ravaged. ―In the early hours of this morning I received intelligence from Gorkenfort. A message, flown down by carrier bird.‖ Priam glanced at Borneheld, who looked surprised. ―Yes, I know
Borneheld, normally you would have received such a message, but the contents were so,‖ Priam
paused and his face visibly paled, ―terrible, that it was addressed to me personally.‖
Roland and Jorge exchanged glances. Terrible news received almost nine hours ago?
Why had Priam waited this long to call them together?
―My friends,‖ and now everyone in the room felt dread pierce their heart, for Priam had
never addressed them so before, ―four nights ago both Gorkenfort and the Retreat in Gorkentown
suffered devastating attacks from creatures such as no-one has ever seen before.‖
Both Borneheld and Jayme leaned forward as Priam continued. ―Lord Magariz was
attacked personally in his quarters. He escaped but was severely wounded and several of his
guards were torn to shreds.‖
―But how?‖ Borneheld‘s face was a mask of confused anger. ―Gorkenfort is impregnable.
How could anyone have attacked Magariz in his quarters with no alarm sounding?‖
―There is worse,‖ Priam whispered, and Axis felt a finger of ice trace through his bowels.
―It appears that the attack on Magariz was only a blind for the real attack—a ruse to keep
the garrison‘s attention focused inwards. A much stronger force overran the Seneschal‘s Retreat