A cry of hatred froze Thane's heart as Krulshards watched the owl escape up into the night sky. Turning back to the hut he called out Thane's name, 'Killhand! Killhand!'he hissed, rising in a blanket of shadows to envelope the hut. 'Bring his head to the City of Night for torment!'

He laughed bitterly, pushing the ring of Nightbeasts forward against the Wayhouse, and it began to crumble beneath the a.s.sault. The walls cried out as black brittle claws tore into them, and the barrier of living thorns that protected the doorway shook and rattled as the Nightbeasts began to tear it down.

'You cannot enter!' Thane cried, advancing a step towards the door.

'Killhand! Killhand!' chanted the Nightbeasts, thrusting their way through the thorn barrier.

'Gallopersp.a.w.n, you are mine!' dribbled Krulshards, advancing on the door, his bone black fingers between the thorns.

'No!' shouted Thane, slashing with his dagger at the Nightbeast's claws, but instead of Nightbeast his blade touched a soft white wall of tiny flowers.

'It is the magic!' he whispered, gazing in wonder at the night flowers. 'Nevian will keep us safe until the new sun rises. It is carved in the legend on the lintel above the door. Esteron, we are safe!'

The heavy, sweet scent from the nightflowers filled the Wayhouse, bringing blissful sleep to Thane and Esteron, shutting out their fear and pain. For it was written by the Lord

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of Daylight that none who treasure the light need fear the powers of darkness for the s.p.a.ce of one night while they rested in the Wayhouse hut of thorns.

'Killhand! Gallopersp.a.w.n!' screamed Krulshards, retreating from the Wayhouse and spreading his malice to blot out the starlight that reflected from the tiny white flowers. But the more the Nightbeasts a.s.saulted the walls or tore at the doorway the more petal cases opened until the Wayhouse was buried beneath deep banks of brilliant nightflowers that dazzled and blinded, and where the Nightbeasts touched the white petals

they burned their claws, giving off a bitter smell that drove them back. Krulshards spat at the hut and looked at the greying sky. He drew his Nightbeasts around him into a circle of blackest shadows.

'Tomorrow,' he dribbled, touching the raw sinews that Silverwing had torn open, 'when the sun touches the World's Edge as these foul flowers close, put on your wolEskin eye shields and destroy the Wayhouse. Tear it stone from stone and bring Hand's head to the City of Night. In the darkness I shall pluck out his eyes and feed them to my blind beasts.'

'Killhand! Killhandl' the Nightbeasts chanted, moving in a slow circle, spears interlocked, waiting for the magic to fade.

Krulshards gathered the malice into heavy black folds of hatred about his shoulders and summoned Kerzolde to his side.

'We are too few to risk battle here. If that owl brings warriors or Warhorses to Thanehand's aid we are doomed. Come, there is an old enemy in Elundium, with a tattoo in blue and gold upon his arm, we shall destroy him before the new sun rises.'

'Who, Master?' Kerzolde asked, running to keep pace with Krulshards' giant strides as he took the ancient road into the heart of Elundium.

'Archerorm, the begetter of the foul Archer who did this!'

snarled Krulshards, throwing back the malice to reveal the ragged hole Kyot's arrow had made in his shoulder.

A noise in the blackened smoke hole brought Thane to his feet, dagger ready, but he eased his grip on the hilt and laughed with joy as the shadow of Mulcade crossed the Wayhouse floor. 'You have brought the morning,' he cried, feeling the owl's dew-wet talons on his arm. Mulcade hooted softly, bobbing his head backwards and forwards.

'Esteron,' Thane whispered as the Warhorse struggled to his feet, 'Mulcade has seen the new sun. Here, touch the jewels of daybreak before they vanish.'

Esteron stretched his neck and brushed his muzzle across Mulcade's talons, feeling the beginnings of a new day.

'Soon we must part,' whispered Thane, collecting his courage and turning towards the door, remembering now in their last brief moments together all the little things that had bound them, that had made their love so strong. That first moment in the sand school, far away in the Granite City, when Esteron had been wild and set on killing him, but the owl had made him spare his life. He smiled, remembering how he had named him Esteron. Mulcade tightened his talons on Thane's arm making him look into his own eyes.

'How could I forget,' he laughed, 'how you stooped to my shoulder and we started our journey to World's End so long ago? I love you both more than life itself. Hurry to Underfall and seek out the Healer.'

Esteron snorted fiercely, nudging Thane's shoulder. The flowers were fading and the new morning's light was streaming into the hut through the ruined walls. Mulcade shrieked a warning, for beyond the closing petal cases he saw the Nightbeasts' shadow circle rising up to hide the sunlight.

Thane ran to the doorway and looked out into the sun. The Nightbeasts were advancing on the hut.

'Give me a moment to clear the way,' he called and jumping through the thorn barrier he plunged the dagger into the nearest beast. It screamed, stumbling blindly against him, slashing with a rusty jagged blade above Thane's head. Thane jerked the dagger free and attacked the next, felling it with

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one upward thrust. He hesitated before tackling the third and circled it on tiptoe, carefully studying its face. It was blind; it had a layer of skin over its eyes to protect them from the daylight. Thane laughed; the beast spun round, following his voice. Roaring, it called the other beasts to where Thane stood. He stayed perfectly still with bated breath, poised on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, until the Nightbeasts' spearblades were a handspan from his chest.

'Nigh/beasts!' he shouted, ducking and scooping up a handful of stones before he slipped sideways as the Nightbeasts lunged forward, impaling each other, screaming as the spear blades tore through their scaly armour. 'Now go!'

Thane shouted, scattering the stones amongst the Nightbeasts as he urged Esteron over the threshold stone. The Nightbeasts stumbled into one another, following the noise of the stones while, far away, beyond the Nightbeasts' screams, the first blackbird burst into song and the new sun spread its warmth across the ancient road, drying out the jewels of the morning.

'Go quickly,' Thane urged, helping the crippled horse on to the empty Greenway. Esteron snorted through the pain and tried to trot, Mulcade hovered above him, talons spread ready to stoop to his defence.

'I love you both,' Thane called out, running back through the Nightbeasts, taunting them with his voice and throwing handfuls of sharp stones to distract them from the fleeing horse, drawing them after him towards Notley Marsh.

'Killhand! Killhand!' the Nightbeasts chanted, following his voice in a ragged line. Thane ran on ahead of them as fast as he could, keeping to the centre of the road. When he reached the rim of the steep valley that led down into Notley Marsh he looked back and saw them spread out across the road, close to his heels.

71.

Krulshards Stumble Hill

Something more terrible than death had come with the grey hours, that much old Archerorm could feel in his bones and smell on the dry nightwind. It made him shiver and the fear of

it gnawed at his stomach as he paced the empty Wayhouse Tower on Stumble Hill. It had come in the dead of night, encircling the Wayhouse, looking for weakness and a way to enter, but finding none it had settled before the great wooden doors, pressing against the iron studding and fiercely rattling the locks. Archer dared not guess at what, or who, had come to the tower, and he feared each shadow that filled the dark courtyard. The tattoo of the owl carrying the sword itched upon his arm and, pulling his sleeve away, he gazed at the mark Nevian had traced all those suns ago beneath the walls of Underfall and gasped, for the colours burned with a fierce light, driving the shadows out of the courtyard.

'Nevian,' he cried, lifting his bow arm above his head. 'You have lit my darkest hour. Now I have the power to see who haunts the road before my door!'

Archer hurried into the armoury and selected the best, strongest bow and the heaviest quiver of new-forged arrows.

He climbed to the top of the tower and looked through the Gla.s.s of Orm at the road below.

'Krulshards!' he cried, stepping quickly back from the gla.s.s, not daring to raise his eyes to look at the Nightmare that had covered the Causeway and pressed his black hatred against the door.

'Trueflightorm,' a voice hissed, splitting the night air as it rose up out of the malice. 'I have not forgotten your name, foul Archer, nor have I forgotten how you once stood between me and victory over the daylight, destroying my shadow circle with the Bow of Orm.'

Archer took shallow breaths; the palms of his hands were growing wet with fear as he gripped the oiled wooden bow tightly.

'I have come to claim you, Trueflightorm, and keep you in the darkness, for ever sightless from the sun,' sneered the voice of hatred.

'Nightmare!' cried Archer, necking an arrow on to the string and aiming into the shadowy folds of the malice. 'You could not kill me on the Causeway Road before the gates of Underfall. You shall not, by the might of my arm, take me now!'

Cruel laughter filled the night air as a gnarled bone black hand reached up out of the malice, s.n.a.t.c.hed the arrow as it flew and snapped it in two. 'Your son, foul Archer, has the Bow of Orm,' mocked Krulshards, 'and he lies dead in the City of Night. You cannot harm me, Archerorm, nor can these doors keep me out.'

Krulshards snarled, curling his lips back agross his ragged teeth, and threw the weight of his malice against the doors.