it flares you must all stand back, but be ready, for it will only
burn a moment. As the flames die we throw pure water and more salt. If we strike well, it will fall as though dead, but don’t be fooled. The iron sword must finish the creature. Is your point
good and sharp?’
‘You know all this but you’ve never faced one of these creatures?’ Jonnic looked ready to run.
‘I’ve seen it done. Where I come from there were men who would hunt them and bring them to my school just so that we could be shown.’
They entered the trees on foot, the pines packed too closely for mules and so dark that they would quickly be lost. Addic took the lead, Jonnic came at the rear. They moved slowly and with care,
squeezing between the branches.
‘You’ll need to lure the creature into open ground,’ Oribas whispered. A circle of salt would be almost impossible amid these trees.
‘And how will I do that?’ hissed Addic.
‘My understanding is that shadewalkers are very easily lured.’
‘Lured how?’
Oribas tried to sound unconcerned, as though he was talking about trapping a badger or a hare. ‘As with any hungry animal, one baits one’s trap with food, Addic.’ They all knew
he meant them.
‘Have you ever see a man taken by a shadewalker, Aulian?’ whispered Jonnic behind him. ‘Their faces are . . .’ His words faded. Oribas understood. The faces of their
victims were the worst. They were unrecognisable. Thin and stretched as though they’d been sucked to nothing from the inside.
‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I have. I lost a friend once and I’ve seen other victims too.’ The friend had been more Gallow’s friend than his but they’d
travelled for many miles and many days together. He’d died in the foothills along the Aulian Way and Oribas hadn’t been there to tell Gallow and his sailors how to fight them. Too busy
chasing a monster of his own.
The trees shivered and rustled ahead of them. Too much for a small forest creature and something as large as a deer wasn’t likely to come into a wood like this. A bear? Oribas wasn’t
sure but the idea of a bear frightened him even more than a shadewalker. Salt wouldn’t stop a bear. His fingers drifted to his belt, opening the pouches lined with waxed paper that held his
saltpetre and the fierce-burning powdered grey metal that came from the alchemists near his old home. Would a flash of fire scare off a bear? He had no idea. Deserts didn’t have bears. From
the way Gallow had talked, probably not.
A branch cracked. A shape emerged from the gloom ahead, ragged clothes hanging over rusting mail, an old round wooden shield, scarred and stained, and a long notched sword almost trailing in the
blanket of needles that covered the forest floor. Face as pale as the snow, eyes wide open, skin taut over the bones of its face, the shadewalker came towards them at a steady pace, without a sound
save for its footsteps and the whip of a branch now and then as it brushed across its shield. In front of Oribas, Addic froze.
‘Modris protect us,’ he croaked.
‘Diaran!’ cried Jonnic behind them. He took a pace back and then another. As the shadewalker advanced, he turned and ran. Jonnic, who held the torch and so their fire. Oribas
stumbled as Addic backed into him.
‘What do I do?’ the Marroc quavered.
Oribas backed away too, grabbing a fistful of salt from the bag over his shoulder. A man could always outrun a shadewalker if his legs were good. Why were these Marroc so afraid?
The shadewalker lifted its sword as it came closer, one of the old blades of the Aulian emperor’s guard. Fine swords if you could find one in good repair and they reminded Oribas of the
long-bladed Edge of Sorrows. The Marroc had left the red sword at home and he thought now they might wish they hadn’t. Addic lifted his shield to defend himself, but he was still backing away
and he was white with fear.
‘It’s just a man who forgot when to die,’ hissed
burn a moment. As the flames die we throw pure water and more salt. If we strike well, it will fall as though dead, but don’t be fooled. The iron sword must finish the creature. Is your point
good and sharp?’
‘You know all this but you’ve never faced one of these creatures?’ Jonnic looked ready to run.
‘I’ve seen it done. Where I come from there were men who would hunt them and bring them to my school just so that we could be shown.’
They entered the trees on foot, the pines packed too closely for mules and so dark that they would quickly be lost. Addic took the lead, Jonnic came at the rear. They moved slowly and with care,
squeezing between the branches.
‘You’ll need to lure the creature into open ground,’ Oribas whispered. A circle of salt would be almost impossible amid these trees.
‘And how will I do that?’ hissed Addic.
‘My understanding is that shadewalkers are very easily lured.’
‘Lured how?’
Oribas tried to sound unconcerned, as though he was talking about trapping a badger or a hare. ‘As with any hungry animal, one baits one’s trap with food, Addic.’ They all knew
he meant them.
‘Have you ever see a man taken by a shadewalker, Aulian?’ whispered Jonnic behind him. ‘Their faces are . . .’ His words faded. Oribas understood. The faces of their
victims were the worst. They were unrecognisable. Thin and stretched as though they’d been sucked to nothing from the inside.
‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘I have. I lost a friend once and I’ve seen other victims too.’ The friend had been more Gallow’s friend than his but they’d
travelled for many miles and many days together. He’d died in the foothills along the Aulian Way and Oribas hadn’t been there to tell Gallow and his sailors how to fight them. Too busy
chasing a monster of his own.
The trees shivered and rustled ahead of them. Too much for a small forest creature and something as large as a deer wasn’t likely to come into a wood like this. A bear? Oribas wasn’t
sure but the idea of a bear frightened him even more than a shadewalker. Salt wouldn’t stop a bear. His fingers drifted to his belt, opening the pouches lined with waxed paper that held his
saltpetre and the fierce-burning powdered grey metal that came from the alchemists near his old home. Would a flash of fire scare off a bear? He had no idea. Deserts didn’t have bears. From
the way Gallow had talked, probably not.
A branch cracked. A shape emerged from the gloom ahead, ragged clothes hanging over rusting mail, an old round wooden shield, scarred and stained, and a long notched sword almost trailing in the
blanket of needles that covered the forest floor. Face as pale as the snow, eyes wide open, skin taut over the bones of its face, the shadewalker came towards them at a steady pace, without a sound
save for its footsteps and the whip of a branch now and then as it brushed across its shield. In front of Oribas, Addic froze.
‘Modris protect us,’ he croaked.
‘Diaran!’ cried Jonnic behind them. He took a pace back and then another. As the shadewalker advanced, he turned and ran. Jonnic, who held the torch and so their fire. Oribas
stumbled as Addic backed into him.
‘What do I do?’ the Marroc quavered.
Oribas backed away too, grabbing a fistful of salt from the bag over his shoulder. A man could always outrun a shadewalker if his legs were good. Why were these Marroc so afraid?
The shadewalker lifted its sword as it came closer, one of the old blades of the Aulian emperor’s guard. Fine swords if you could find one in good repair and they reminded Oribas of the
long-bladed Edge of Sorrows. The Marroc had left the red sword at home and he thought now they might wish they hadn’t. Addic lifted his shield to defend himself, but he was still backing away
and he was white with fear.
‘It’s just a man who forgot when to die,’ hissed
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