'We have been travelling for twenty daylights,' he sighed, sitting up, 'and n.o.body can tell us where Clatterford is.' Kyot remembered grimly how the villagers from whom he had asked the way had closed their gates against him and how they had thrown sharp stones to drive away the dogs. Only twice had he been coldly welcomed inside the deep-d.y.k.ed barricades and given bad meat to eat and a rough place to sleep. 'Clatterford!'

the villagers had sneered, 'is a legend from the time of Kings that once kept the land safe from Nightbeasts. From a time that only old men remember, when we tilled the land and gathered fruit without looking over our shoulders in fear. A curse on all Kings!'

'There will be a new King!' he had shouted back. 'The Nightbeast army runs before the warriors of Elundium!' But the villagers had only laughed at him, pulling their high barricades shut against the world they feared.

Sighing, Kyot sank back against the saddle and closed his eyes. The warm smell of cured oiled leather filled his nose and the soft sable fur of the dogs on either side finally helped him drift off to sleep. Sprint snorted a quiet greeting to Rockspray as the owl stooped silently down on to the high cantle of the saddle to sit out the watches of the night.

Unblinking, he stared into the darkness just before the dawn and watched a shadowy figure move towards them. Slowly he unhooked his talons and spread his wings, his beak half open, to call a warning, but taco eyes looked into his; dark

eyes that held the secrets of twilight, clear eyes that were strong enough to bid him to be still and give no warning.

Sprint snorted and turned his head, letting a neigh of rage turn to a soft whinny of greeting, the dogs looked up and bared their teeth in silent snarls.

'Be still,' whispered a gentle voice. Sprint p.r.i.c.ked his ears, letting Eventine, the daughter of Fairday of Clatterford, stroke his shoulder as she knelt beside Kyot and took the sixth arrow from its place in the earth beside the saddle. Reaching back into the quiver she replaced it with one of her own arrows.

Smiling down at Kyot she whispered, 'My father is more than just a whispered legend; and he has waited overlong for the Archer who carries the Bow of Orm. Keep faith in your heart and you will find us. Follow the sun to Clatterford.'

Kyot murmured in his sleep and turned on the hard earth.

Eventine stepped back hastily into the shadows away from the fire's glowing embers, then sprang lightly over the ring of kindling sticks and disappeared into the growing dawn light.

Kyot yawned, stretching his arms beneath the cloak and rose stiffly to his feet. The chill dawn had coated the gra.s.slands with a fine layer of h.o.a.r frost and the morning was rich with the smell of autumn. 'Beautiful! This is beautiful!'

he said, looking at the fine threaded patterns the frost had spread on to the blades of gra.s.s, marvelling at the jewelled lace in the spiders' webs that bent before the early breezes.

'We ride with the sun,, he laughed, stooping to pick up the saddle, but instead of taking the saddle he stared foolishly at the small footprint, slender and delicate, imprinted in the crisp gra.s.s a hand's span from where he had slept.

Falling to his knees he touched the print. 'By Nevian!' he whispered, standing and looking out beyond the kindling wood to where other prints in the frost led in the direction that he was about to travel. Frowning, he collected his arrows and returned them to the quiver. The sixth felt different, the shaft was smoother and the goose feather flight had a

different shape to it. Rubbing the dirt from the blade on the edge of his cloak he gazed at a slender gla.s.s blade that burned with a white fire, catching all the glory of the morning sun.

'There is magic here!' he whispered, turning the arrow cautiously in his hand. 'I did not take this arrow from the armoury of Stumble Hill and I did not push it into the ground last night before I slept.' Sprint neighed and Rockspray hooted, nodding his head backwards and forwards. Kyot slipped the arrow into his quiver then quickly saddled and bridled Sprint.

'Something must have come with the arrow in the night,' he muttered, putting his foot into the stirrup and mounting.

'Run, Sprint, and take us away from this magic place. Run!'

Sprint neighed and took the bridle, cantering fast across the gra.s.sland, following the frosty footprints. All day Kyot rode Sprint hard, putting as many leagues as the little horse could run between them and their last resting place. He avoided a small cl.u.s.ter of houses ringed by a deep d.y.k.e, keeping well away from their harvest fields, galloping Sprint into a white lather until the houses had disappeared behind them in the noonday haze and they were once more alone.

Fear had made him edgy and he jumped at shadows and noises in the long gra.s.s, loosing two arrows foolishly at rising skylarks. As the sun began to sink towards evening time Sprint's head hung wearily forwards. Kyot dismounted and took the reins over the horse's head. 'Let us find a place, somewhere safer than last night, a ridge or a hill, somewhere that I can defend.'

Rockspray lifted off his shoulder and searched far ahead, rising up on warm draughts of evening air. Hovering, he saw

below black shapes moving through the long gra.s.ses, encircling a small hamlet of stone houses. He shrieked a warning, flying low across the weatherslated roofs. His cry spread panic through the crowded streets as animals and children were herded into safety, doors were slammed shut, bolts were shot

and windows shuttered.

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The Nightbeasts broke cover. Roaring and screaming they stormed the wattle-woven walls of defence, smashing them down. Soon they were swarming through the streets.

Kyot had heard Rockspray's cry and remounted Sprint.

'Run!' he cried, 'the Nightbeasts are here before us.'

Riding hard through a gap in the broken wall Kyot nocked arrow after arrow on to the string and the great Bow of Orm sang with a clear voice in the evening light, destroying the Nightbeasts. Again and again the Border Runners leapt at the monsters' throats. Twice Kyot thought he heard the voice of another bow but he had no time to look behind or to the left or right. Before him the last three beasts towered; reaching into the quiver his fingers closed on the strange arrow.

Aiming at the centre beast he loosed the arrow and it sang through the air, exploding with a flash of blinding light against the Nightbeast's chest. Kyot reached for another arrow but before he could take aim, or the dogs tear them down, the two other Nightbeasts had fallen with arrows in their throats. Kyot pirouetted Sprint, searching each street; he galloped out into the gra.s.slands and circled the hamlet, but he was alone.

Slowly the doors opened and the villagers came forward.

'Who has a bow?' he shouted. 'Where is the Archer who fought at my side?'

'Lord,' answered a white-haired elder, 'if the arrow heads be made of gla.s.s then it was the Lady of Clatterford.'

'Lady of Clatterford?' Kyot whispered as he knelt and examined the arrows in the fallen Nightbeasts. The blades were smooth as ice and reflected the evening sunlight. Paling, he slowly stood up. 'Tell me of this Lady of Clatterford.

Where may I find her?'

The elder spread his hands. 'Lord, she is nowhere - and yet she is everywhere. She is the light in the morning and the soft sun in the evening. She is beauty beyond a whisper and she keeps us safe from the roving bands of Nightbeasts.'

'Rockspray warned you, and I rode to your defence,'

Kyot answered, an edge of anger in his voice. 'Where

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is this Lady of Clatterford? Does she have a name?'

'Lord, greatly we thank you. Our lives are in the palm of your hand. Take anything you desire. We are now yours to clean the arrow-heads and oil the bow, but we cannot show you the Lady of Clatterford for she is her own mistress and

she goes where she pleases.'

Kyot laughed, taking both the elder's hands and pulled him to his feet. 'I want nothing but the way to Clatterford. I seek nothing but to kneel at the feet of Fairday, the Crystal Maker.'

'But Lord, we owe you our lives!'

Kyot looked past the elder at the rough stone houses and the mean, worn streets. 'Does the Lady of Clatterford own this village? Are you in her keeping?'

'Lord, she takes nothing but the grains of corn we leave in a dish at the village edge.'

'How can you offer me more than you offer the Lady of Clatterford?' Kyot questioned.

'She has never stood before us, as you have, my Lord, but if she did all she desired would be laid at her feet.'

'I will take nothing from you, elder, for I have seen the beauty of Elundium and that is riches enough.'

Kyot gathered the reins and remounted Sprint. 'I bid you a night free of shadows,' he cried as Sprint took the bridle and headed out into the gra.s.slands.

'Stay with us and honour our village!' cried the elder, as Kyot, with the Border Runners on each side, pa.s.sed through the d.y.k.e.

'There is no time!' he shouted back. 'I must find Clatter

ford. But I will return when the Nightmare is no more.'

Kyot rode without ceasing until the lights of the village had vanished far behind him. Slowing Sprint to a walk he dismounted and found a place they could rest, a slight mound of bare earth that rose above the gra.s.sland, surmounted by a single gnarled hawthorn tree. Setting his remaining four arrows, points deep, into the ground he sat and waited, watching the darkness.

'Stay close,' he whispered to Sprint. 'Be my eyes lest I should sleep,' he asked Rockspray, stroking the smooth brittle horn of his talons.

Rockspray hooted and rumethis chest feathers as Kyot slipped from wakefulness into sleep. Eventine smiled in the darkness of the gra.s.slands and silently climbed to the top of the mound; there she knelt at Kyot's side and quickly took two arrows from her quiver and exchanged them, pressing the gla.s.s points firmly into the ground. Laughing to herself she placed a small wooden bowl at his feet, filling it with a small mound of uncooked grain.