Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

FINN

The inn was rowdy for so early in the afternoon. Some kind of farewell. Though the man at the centre of the crowd clearly didn't relish the idea of starting a new life somewhere far away. Finn couldn't divine why.

So instead he had decided to keep to himself. He'd had a drink, eaten some bread and the local cheese, which wasn't bad at all, and then made his way outside. He had only intended to stop in the wretched little village to rest his horse. The road from Sidonia, Ilanthus's capital, was long and hard, especially this road, off the beaten track and through the forest. He'd hoped that if anyone was following him – which no doubt they were – they'd never expect him to go this way. No one came to Thirbridge and he could see why now. He was more concerned with reaching the stables and getting Dancer back, with making ready for the road to Knightsford, when all hell had broken loose.

The scrawny pale boy with huge eyes had looked absolutely terrified at the sight of the thug bearing down on him. And of Finn himself, to be honest, even when he'd beaten off the attackers. He had rabbited for the woods as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

Finn should have left it there. He should have just walked away. Anyone else would have.

Well, no. The Grandmaster wouldn't have. Paladins saw it as a duty to protect the innocent. The Knights of the Aurum did not walk away from someone in need. And so neither could he. That was the thing about vows, even the lowliest of them. You couldn't pick and choose when to uphold them.

The village men gave chase, full of drink and fury, turning on the easy target once Finn disengaged. He ran to the stable and mounted, reeling Dancer around, then plunged after them, ignoring the warnings shouted by those behind him.

He knew the forest around here had a dark reputation. But a forest was just a forest. There were worse things behind him, far worse could be following. He didn't warn the villagers of that. No need to cause more fear and panic here. They lived near the border with Ilanthus. They knew the risks. War was not so long ago as all that. Raiding parties still happened. Maybe not here from the looks of it, not for a long time, but they had to know. The road still ran north and south, even if it was a minor road. He'd been so careful, he had thought, picking this route so as not to draw attention to himself. As far as they were concerned, he was just a traveller passing through. And now he had already drawn far too much attention to himself. The Grandmaster would be furious.

But Finnian Ward had always caused trouble wherever he went. It was in his blood, his brothers-in-arms said. He couldn't help that. He was a lodestone for strife.

Dancer whinnied a warning as they entered the forest and it crowded around them. He slowed his pace, lest the horse take injury on the uneven path, and followed the sound of the men. No sign of the boy now. He couldn't have vanished more effectively if he'd been shadow kin. Finn hoped that boded well for him evading his pursuers, but somehow he doubted it. Presumably they knew the forest as well.

There was something about the woods here that made his skin crawl. The deeper they went the quieter it seemed, which was never good. It should be alive with birdsong, with animal life, but here… the shadows pressed closer than they should.

The sound of the men fell away as well. Perhaps they'd become bored and returned to the tavern. That was the best-case scenario. But the other possibility, that they had already found the boy and done him harm… well, that wouldn't do. Not when Finn had extended protection. True, they wouldn't know who he was or what his protection might mean but that didn't matter. In the blink of an eye it had become a matter of honour.

They reached the edge of a valley, where a stream cut through the forest and into the earth itself. Making their way down the slope, Dancer whickered softly, and hesitated to cross, but Finn urged him on.

The horse was normally fearless. This was not a good sign.

As he made to climb the other side of the valley, Dancer dug his hooves in entirely.

‘What is it?' Finn asked, trying to urge him onwards, but to no avail.

That was when he heard it.

Music drifted from the depths of the valley, upstream, where the darkness of the forest was even deeper.

He couldn't see anything through the tight-pressed trees and undergrowth. The sunlight was barely penetrating the canopy here and came through green and gold, as if falling through stained glass.

Where on earth was he?

And that tune. That music. He knew it. Not that he could name it but there was something… something so familiar…

He dismounted and left the stallion where he was, intent only on following the music and investigating. Just for a moment. Just to see who would be here in the deepest part of the forest playing… a harp? Or maybe a lute…

It sounded like something from his earliest memories, something from the shadows of his childhood. Before they turned to nightmares.

Whitethorn rose in front of him, in full bloom, its sharp thorns like a barrier. But when he reached out his hands, the branches seemed to fold back. Beyond that he saw elder trees and they pressed close, their long branches sweeping against him. Willow trailed through his hair, tugging it loose from where he had tied it, tangling in it.

Come deeper , the voice sang. A voice unlike anything he'd ever heard. Come deeper, beloved. We've been waiting such a long time for you.

He followed the sound, the music, the voice. It sang to him, stealing his thoughts even as they tried to form.

This was wrong. He knew this couldn't be real. But the moment the thought came, it seemed to melt away, smothered in the strange music and the shadows that thronged underneath, tangling around his feet and legs, winding up around his body.

He fell back into the embrace of the darkness, and felt the caresses engulf him. There was only pleasure, only the music and the song, and that bewitching voice.

He was back in Sidonia, in the labyrinthine palace complex, his mother singing to him. He was safe. He'd never heard of Asteroth or the war the royal family had unleashed. There was no black blade at his throat, no laughter from his brothers, no feeling of ice creeping into his skin as he was laid out in the chamber of sacrifice and ? —

And the enemy had yet to arrive at their gates.

He struggled to free himself. This wasn't right. This was an enchantment. It had to be.

A soft laugh caused a ripple over his body, stilling him, stealing his wits again.

Are you trying to fight? Poor boy, why do that? It's over anyway. This is the end. Give up now. The Nox is coming. She's the one you've been waiting for, dreaming of. Give yourself to her. It's inevitable. No one can escape their fate.

Who? Who did it mean?

There she was, the dark goddess to whom he had been promised. Waiting for him. Meant for him. Just as he was meant for her. Helpless before her. Her creature, her chosen, made to live for her, and to die for her. He had no other choice.

She bent over him, her long midnight hair like a veil around her moonlight skin. Her eyes, so dark and endless, holes into the otherworld, into the darkness of Nox itself. His goddess smiled, smiled at him, and he found his mouth mirroring the expression. Because he knew her as well. She had haunted his dreams and his nightmares, always there, always waiting.

He'd thought he had cheated fate. But here she was.

In the darkest part of the darkest forest.

His body responded, even while his mind continued its futile struggle. He might as well embrace the inevitable.

His Lady carried with her the scent of night flowering jasmine. It wrapped itself around him and drugged his senses. Some distant part of him said this was wrong, that this was not real, some part that could feel the insidious touch of darkness winding its way around his helpless body, dragging him through the forest, through the undergrowth, locking him tighter and tighter in an enchantment even as it pulled him into its stronghold.

But the rest of him didn't care. How could he care? This was meant to be. This had always been meant to be.

Don't be afraid, the Nox incarnate whispered. But he wasn't. There was no fear left in him now. Whatever his father had done to him, whatever his brothers had planned, whatever the threats and the sense of dread when he had first set foot in Asteroth a hostage and a prisoner from a lost war not of his making ? —

It was all past. It was all gone. There was only her. His dark queen. A goddess of shadows thought long lost. And he was hers.

Just as it was always meant to be.