his sword.‖
―And how did they wound this soldier? I thought the Gorkenfort garrison were among the
best armoured soldiers in the realm.‖
―Brother-Leader, Magariz understood from the soldier‘s last words that the creatures
surrounded him—then simply oozed through the gaps in his armour until they lay between it and
his skin. Then they began to eat.‖
Gilbert stopped for a moment, and all three men contemplated such a horrific death.
Jayme closed his eyes; may Artor hold him and keep him in His care, he prayed silently.
―I wonder why they left him alive?‖ Moryson wondered softly.
Gilbert‘s voice was caustic when he replied. ―They had already consumed the rest of his
patrol. One assumes they were reasonably full.‖
Jayme abruptly pushed himself up from his chair and moved over to a wall cabinet. ―I
think Artor would forgive us if we imbibed a little wine this early in the afternoon, Brothers.
Considering we still have the reports from Smyrton to review, I think we might need it.‖
He poured out three glass goblets of deep red wine and handed them out before reseating
himself behind his desk.
―Furrow wide, furrow deep,‖ he intoned.
―Furrow wide, furrow deep,‖ Moryson and Gilbert answered together, repeating the ritual
phrases that served all Artor-fearing Acharites as blessings and greetings for most occasions in
life.
Both ritual and wine comforted the men, and soon they were ready to resume their
considerations.
―And what else from the north, Gilbert?‖ Jayme asked, holding his glass between both
palms to warm the remaining wine and hoping the wine he had already consumed would beat
back the chill gnawing at his soul.
―Well, the winter was particularly severe. Even here we suffered from extreme cold
during Raven-month and Hungry-month, while the thaw came in Flower-month, a month later
than usual. In the north the cold was even more extreme, and I believe the winter snow and ice
persisted in places above the Urqhart Hills throughout the summer.‖ Even northern Ichtar usually
thawed completely for the summer.
Jayme raised his eyebrows. Gilbert‘s intelligence was good indeed. Did he have sources
that Jayme did not know about? No matter, what was important was that much of northern Ichtar
had spent the summer encased in ice when usually the ice and snow disappeared by
Thaw-month.
―If the ice persisted above the Urqhart Hills, then Gorkentown must also have remained
in conditions close to winter,‖ Jayme pondered. ―Tell me, Gilbert, did the attacks continue
through the warmer months?‖
Gilbert shook his head and took another sip of wine. ―No. The creatures appeared only
during the most severe weather in the depths of winter. Perhaps they have gone again.‖
―And perhaps they have not. If the extreme north remained encased in ice during summer
then I dread the winter ahead. And if they depend on extreme weather conditions, then does that
mean they will be back?‖
―We should also consider the reports of our brothers in the Retreat at Gorkentown,
Brother-Leader.‖ The Brotherhood of the Seneschal had a small retreat in Gorkentown for those
brothers who preferred a more ascetic life, spent in contemplation of Artor, to the comfortable
life of the Tower of the Seneschal.
―Yes, Gilbert. Perhaps we should.‖
―Our brothers believe that the Forbidden might be behind this.‖
―And their reasons for thinking so, Gilbert?‖
―The reports and experiences of the garrison for one, Brother-Leader. But also several of
the brothers have reported that demons inhabit their dreams on those nights when the wind is
fiercest.‖
Jayme chuckled softly. ―Not reliable. You give me bad dreams most nights, Gilbert, and I
am not yet ready to class you as one of the Forbidden.‖
All three men smiled, Gilbert more stiffly than the other two. Moryson spoke gently,
turning the younger brother‘s mind from Jayme‘s heavy-handed attempt at humour. ―Have they
reported seeing anything, Gilbert?‖
―Neither Gorkenfort nor Gorkentown has been attacked; only small patrols or individuals
outside the walls. No, the brothers have actually seen little. But they have observed the mood of the town and garrison, and they say that dark thoughts and moods lay heavily across the
inhabitants. Extra prayers are offered to Artor every day, but the fear grows.‖
―If only there was someone alive who actually knew anything about the Forbidden!‖
Jayme was angry at his inability to understand the nature of the threat in northern Ichtar. He
stood up from his chair again and paced restlessly across the chamber.
―Gilbert. Forget the mutterings of the brothers in Gorkentown for the moment. What
news out of Smyrton?‖
―Unusual happenings there, too, but not the same as in northern Ichtar.‖
Smyrton was a largish village at the extreme edge of the Seagrass Plains, the main
grain-producing area of Achar. It was the closest settled area to the Forbidden Valley. If the
Forbidden ever came swarming over Achar again, then the valley was the obvious place they would emerge, a natural conduit out of the Shadowsward, the darkest and most evil place
bordering Achar. One day, thought Jayme, we‘ll take the axe to the Shadowsward as well.
―The local Plough-Keeper, Brother Hagen, has sent reports of strange creatures sighted
near the Forbidden Valley and, more disturbing, near the village itself. There have been about
five sightings over the past several months.‖
―Are they…?‖ Moryson began, but Gilbert shook his head.
―Nothing like the strange creatures of ice and snow that the soldiers of Gorkenfort report,
Brother Moryson. Yet in their own way, they are just as strange. Man-like—but somehow alien.‖
―In what way?‖ asked Jayme testily.
Gilbert had to swivel a little in his chair to follow the figure of his Brother-Leader as he
paced the floor from window to fireplace and back again. ―They are short and muscular, and very
dark, making them extremely hard to see at night. They evade the villagers rather than seek them
out. Each time one is spotted it has been carrying a child with it, and Brother Hagen reports that
although no children from the village are missing, the villagers bolt their doors and windows fast
at dusk. Perhaps they have stolen the children from somewhere else.‖
―You said, ‗somehow alien‘.‖ Jayme stopped before Gilbert‘s chair and folded his arms
in frustration. ―What do you mean by that?‖
Gilbert shrugged. ―I only relate what Brother Hagen relates, Brother-Leader. He was not
specific on that point.‖
Jayme sighed and patted Gilbert on the shoulder. ―I cannot but think the Forbidden are
moving again.‖
Spoken words about the Forbidden were enough to make all three men shiver with
foreboding. Every Acharite living knew that a thousand years previously, during the Wars of the
Axe, their forebears had driven the frightful races that had once dominated Achar with their evil
sorcery back across the Fortress Ranges into the Shadowsward and the Icescarp Alps. Then, with
the help of the Axe-Wielders, the Acharites had cut down the massive forests that had once
harboured the Forbidden races, putting the cleared land under Plough and civilisation. It was part
of Acharite legend that one day the Forbidden would seethe back across the Fortress Ranges and
slither down from the Icescarp Alps to try to reclaim the land that had once been theirs. Every
parent scared their children with the threat.
Jayme walked slowly over to the fire, his shoulders stooped. He raised his cold hands to
the flames until he noticed with horror that they were trembling, and quickly bunched them into
fists and hid them in the folds of his gown. Though nothing as yet connected the two sets of
reports from Gorkenfort and Smyrton, Jayme was scared they were connected. The responsibility
of his position weighed heavily on him.
Moryson and Gilbert watched silently, both aware of the seriousness of these reports,
both glad they were not the ones who had to make the decisions. Moryson scratched his chin
reflectively. He knew dark events were upon them.
Slowly Jayme turned back to his assistants. ―Tomorrow Carlon celebrates King Priam‘s
nameday. The celebrations will end with a banquet in the royal palace to which Priam has
extended me an invitation. He has also advised me that we will need to meet privately to discuss
the problem at Gorkentown. Neither Priam nor the Seneschal can meet this threat alone. Achar
will have to stand united as it never has before if we can hope to survive the threat of the
Forbidden. Artor help us, now and forever.‖
―Now and forever,‖ the other two echoed, draining the dregs of their wine.
2
AT KING PRIAM’S COURT
King Priam‘s nameday was an occasion of great celebration throughout Achar, but
nowhere more than in the city of Carlon where a general holiday was proclaimed. In the morning
Priam presided over a parade through the winding streets of the ancient city, sitting under a
heavily embroidered canopy that usually kept sun from his regal brow. Today it kept an
unseasonable drizzle from his closely curled head. Despite the unsettling rumours from the north,