The Shadow's Heart

Book 3: The Risen Sun

by K.J. Taylor

Genres: Epic Fantasy; Action & Adventure; War & Military

Synopsis

THE CONCLUSION TO K.J. TAYLOR'S "COMPELLING AND EXCITING" (SFFANZ) RISEN SUN TRILOGY

Half-breed Queen Laela Taranisäii is in more danger than ever before. Her subjects hate her, her closest allies, including her griffin, have fallen, and, most worryingly, the Night God’s immortal assassin, The Shadow That Walks, is bent upon reaping vengeance. As her enemies close in on all sides, her methods of maintaining power increase in desperation—and violence.

Laela’s half-brother, Kullervo, is supposed to be her strongest ally. But as he comes to terms with both who he is and what his sister’s reign means to the land, he begins to doubt his once strong loyalties. With the conflict drawing to its bloody close, he must decide what he’s truly prepared to fight for, a choice that could have dire consequences for all he once held dear.

Meanwhile, a new threat is lurking in the darkness, the Night God’s final, deadly pawn. It is this shadow that will decide the outcome of the war—and its power that will seal the fates of all involved…

Release date: December 30, 2014

Publisher: Ace

Print pages: 464

Sample

Author’s Note

So this is it. The end.

Every time I finish a trilogy, I do it with some degree of fatalism, knowing that each trilogy could be the last one I’m able to publish. But if this book must be the last one in the series, then I wouldn’t be too unhappy about it. I think The Shadow’s Heart is one of the best books I’ve written, and as endings go, it has one of the very best. But, I must warn you, it also has one of the most tragic. As Arenadd might say, all’s unfair in love and war.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this journey I’ve taken you on, and that the ending I’ve made will be one that gives you some kind of closure. Six books, and it’s been a long road to get there. Thank you for staying with me—I hope you still want to stay when it’s over.

Finally, the usual notes on pronunciation: The Northerners speak Welsh, and in that language “dd” is pronounced “th.” Some of the odder-looking names are pronounced this way:

Arenadd: “Arren-ath”

Saeddryn: “Say-thrin”

Arddryn: “Arth-rin”

Taranisäii: “TAH-rah-nis-eye”

Laela: “Lay-la” (I include this one because I’ve heard some people say it “Leela.”)

Akhane: “Ah-kah-nay” (This name is actually one I made up, and is meant to sound a bit like the word “arcane,” which fits his interests very well.)

And finally, as always, griffish is pronounced phonetically. Griffins can’t read or learn how to read, and don’t want anything to do with anything that could be called grammar or linguistics. Leave the pointless analysis to the humans, thank you.

1

In her personal chambers high in the towers that made up Malvern’s Eyrie, Queen Laela Taranisäii was alone.

Her brother, Kullervo, was gone, and so was her advisor, Inva. Her friend and former tutor, Yorath, was gone, too, and Lord Iorwerth, the man who commanded Malvern’s armies while his partner, Kaanee, led the humanless griffins called the Unpartnered, hadn’t yet returned from his conquest of Warwick. And her father, Arenadd, the only friend she had had in the world once upon a time . . . Arenadd was gone, too.

Once she might have turned to her own griffin partner, Oeka, but Oeka was not there. Or not all there, anyway. Her body was locked away somewhere underneath the Eyrie, mouldering in silence while her mind wandered who knew where.

Her only company now was a book: her father’s diary. Oeka had embedded some of her power in its pages so that Laela could open them and hear her father’s voice read the words, but by now the effect had worn off, and Laela couldn’t read well enough to understand most of it. Nor did she trust anyone enough to have them read it to her. Not with Yorath’s having vanished.

And so, with nothing else to do for the moment while she waited for Iorwerth and Kaanee to return, she sat down and opened a book of her own. The pages were blank, but she had a pot of ink and a reed-pen ready to change that.

Tongue sticking out with the effort, she started to write, forming each rune slowly and carefully:

This is the diry of Quen Laela Taranisäii, who is the dorter of King Arenath Taranis-eye. I dont no how tu rite meny words, but thort I should rite down wat I no so one day peeple can reed it an no wat I did and thort also I thort it would be use-ful for future sk skol book people historeens to reed wat I wrote, so hear gos.

She stopped to wipe the sweat off her forehead and took a deep breath before continuing.

My muthers name was Flell she was a Suthern girl whom my dad might of raped but he says not an I never met her so I dunno wat happned. I was rai grew u come from a place in South called Stirick, not sure how to rite it never saw it rit down. My dad wat raised me was Bran, but he wast my reel dad that was Arenath. I never noo who my real dad was an Bran didnt rite so he never showd me how so I had too lern wen I was a woman. When Bran dyed I left an went North.

Arenath found me but didnt no he wus my dad. He looked after me an I lived with him an helped him an he made me griffiner after I puled him out of the water. He said your my advi advu helper an we went to Amoran together with Skander who was his partner. I got married too a princ called Akhane an brought slaves back home to be free. Arenath died the Nite God killed him an then I got made Queen, but Arenath’s cusin Saythrin said no I should be Queen, yu are a half-breed an not his real dorter anyway. I burned her temple to teech her a lessen but she ran off with her son an dorter. I killed her husband, Torc when she wouldn come back.

Then my brother comes, he is called Kullervo an he found Sennek who was my uncle Erian’s partner before my dad killed him. They went to Warwick where Saethryn was an Kullervo got cort but I sent Iorwerth an Kaanee with the Unpartnered an they smashed up the place. Senneck killed Saethryn’s dorter an her partner Aenae who wus Skandar’s son. She killed Saethryn, too, but the Nite God has sent her back to kill us all espeshuli me cus the Nite God hates half breds like wut I am. I have sent Kullervo an Senneck to Amoran to get my husband to help us an when Iorwerth gets back I will send him to Skenfrith where Caedmon is, he is Saethryns son an leeds the enemys now. Saethryn came to get me yesterday, but Oeka drove her mad an got rid of her. Oeka is my partner an she is madder than a cut snake which is wat Bran used too say.

Laela sat back to look at her handiwork. Her writing had crowded together in some places, and she had kept running out of room at the edge of the page, but she reckoned it was the best writing she’d ever done.

That was enough for one day. She blew on the ink to make it dry faster, closed the book, and put it aside. Then she got up and walked out of the room to go and see if Iorwerth was back yet. He and Kaanee had been away far too long, and she was starting to get worried.

The other thing she had to worry about was Saeddryn. Once Saeddryn had been an ordinary woman—and not a young one, either. She was Arenadd’s cousin, and she had been his second-in-command back in the days when he seized power in the North. By the time Laela had come along, Saeddryn had become Malvern’s high priestess, and she and Arenadd weren’t on the best of terms any more. Arenadd had disowned Saeddryn’s son Caedmon, who had been Arenadd’s apprentice and heir apparent—until Caedmon turned on Arenadd. By the time Laela arrived at Malvern, there was no officially chosen heir to the throne, and Caedmon had fled.

But his mother was the far worse danger. When Senneck killed her, the war should have been all but won, but Laela had not reckoned with the Night God. The Night God had been Arenadd’s master, and she had given him the dark powers he used to conquer the North.

Now those powers belonged to Saeddryn, and if Laela couldn’t find some way to do away with her, then Laela would die for her throne. And Kullervo, Arenadd’s only other offspring, would have to die, too.

Saeddryn’s attempt to kill Laela might have failed when Oeka drove her mad, but after she threw herself out the window, her body had not been found, and Laela knew she was still out there. The fact that she was now insane did not make Laela feel any safer. Frankly, it made her feel worse.

The guards were scouring the city right now, but so far they hadn’t found anything, and Laela didn’t believe for one moment they ever would.

She paused by a window to look out over the city and sighed a long, weary sigh. Ruling the North was far harder than she had ever thought it would be, and in ways she hadn’t expected. She spent so much time worrying about other people and what they were doing, and without a griffin to protect her, she couldn’t leave the city. She had been stuck in Malvern for nearly a year—ever since her father’s death, in fact.

Laela rubbed her eyes and turned away miserably from the window in time to see a servant come hurrying toward her.

She straightened up instantly. “What’s goin’ on?”

The servant stopped and bowed. “My Lady, Lord Iorwerth is here. He’s waiting for ye in the audience chamber.”

“Huh. Nice timin’,” Laela muttered, and walked back the way she had come.

Sure enough, when she entered the white-marble audience chamber where the platform for the ruler and her partner to sit on stood empty, she found Lord Iorwerth and Kaanee ready to receive her. When they saw her, Kaanee glanced at his human. Briefly, but Laela saw it.

“There yeh are,” she said unceremoniously. Not bothering to sit down or ask them to do the same, she folded her arms. “All right, explain yerselves. Where’ve yeh been an’ why?”

Iorwerth, a middle-aged, strong-looking man, clasped his hands together. “I’m sorry, my Lady, but—”

“Where is your partner?” Kaanee interrupted. He pushed forward, tawny brown wings slightly raised. “Where is Oeka?”

“She ain’t here,” said Laela, not bothering to use griffish.

Kaanee’s eyes narrowed. “Where is she? Is she dead?”

May as well be, Laela nearly said, but stopped herself. “No, she’s just not here. She’s busy.”

“Busy with what?” said Kaanee. “She has not been beside you in a long time. Is she not interested in ruling her territory?”

Laela shifted uncomfortably. “Yeh’d have to ask her about that. It ain’t my place to say. Now tell me what’s goin’ on.”

Iorwerth opened his mouth to reply, but once again Kaanee obliged.

“We have been in Warwick, as you commanded, and after that we went to Fruitsheart. We found no enemies there, and now we have come back.”

“Good,” said Laela. “Because now I want yeh to go to Skenfrith. That’s where they are now, that’s where Caedmon is. Go there. Take the Unpartnered. Kill them all. Now.”

“We cannot do that,” said Kaanee.

Laela growled. “You’ll do it because I’m tellin’ yeh. We killed Caedmon’s mother an’ his sister. There ain’t no way he’s ever gonna give up with that on his mind. If we’re gonna keep the North together, then he’s gotta die, an’ that’s all there is to it.”

“We cannot,” Kaanee repeated. “I would do as you say, and so would Iorwerth, but the Unpartnered will not.”

“What?” said Laela, blankly.

“The Unpartnered are not with us,” said Kaanee. “We are late because we have spent our time trying to make them come back to Malvern with us, but they refused. They will not obey me any more.”

“What?” Laela said again, much louder. “Why not?”

“They see no benefit in it for themselves. And there is no griffin at Malvern powerful enough to dominate them and force them to fight. Your partner is not doing her duty.”

“Oh no.” Laela put a hand over her face. She looked up at Iorwerth. “What are we gonna do?”

“There’s only one thing you can do,” he said unhappily. “If we’re going to get control back, then you and Oeka have to go to them, and Oeka will have to impress them.” When Laela didn’t reply and instead pulled a grim face, he tried to reassure her with a smile. “Don’t worry, my Lady. I’m sure she can do it. We all know how powerful she is, and it’s not just about size. They’ll bow to strong magic as well.”

Laela opened her mouth, then shut it again. She coughed. “Yeah . . . I’ll go see her, then.”

She trudged out of the room, mentally listing all the swear-words she knew.

Oeka was not going to come, and she was not going to bring the Unpartnered into line. Laela wasn’t even going to waste time hoping for that. Unpartnered griffins would never normally fight as a group to begin with—they’d only done it in the first place because the Mighty Skandar, as they called him, had had the sheer power to dominate more than a hundred griffins at once. And there was no other griffin in the world who was like him. What was that word her father had used? “Unprecedented.” Without the Unpartnered, it would come down to whatever the humans in this situation thought. And Laela knew exactly who had the popular support right now, and it wasn’t her.

A word that her other father, Bran, had used now sprang to mind.

“Shit.”

*   *   *

Meanwhile, down in the city, someone else was on the hunt. Heath, of no fixed name and no fixed abode, also wanted to find Saeddryn. He had been at it for several days. He knew perfectly well that the entire city guard was trying as well, but they didn’t bother him—even if he knew they would hang him if they caught him. Possibly it would be hanging and dismembering, depending on whether the Eyrie decided to class him as a traitor or just as a spy.

That was an unpleasant thought, but Heath figured the guard were too busy just now. They were looking for Saeddryn, not him, and he’d given them no reason to be looking for him anyway. Or, at least, not just now. Finding the country’s most wanted woman was probably more important than tracking down a fraudster who hadn’t been seen in Malvern for years.

That aside, Heath had already been arrested once, and that hadn’t turned out to be half as bad as he’d thought. It had been touch and go for a little while, but thankfully he’d been caught in Skenfrith, just after Lord Caedmon took control of the city. Caedmon had talked to him and decided to recruit the wily thief as a spy rather than kill him.

As far as Heath was concerned, things were looking up. Besides, this was fun.

He strolled briskly along the main street leading through the lower end of the city, where some of the better-off commoners lived. Nobody paid him any attention. Today, he was in a particularly good mood. It had taken him longer than he’d expected, but if he, Heath, was any judge, then today would be the day that he would finally do what everyone else had failed to do: find Saeddryn. The guards were numerous, and he was on his own, but he had contacts they didn’t. Nobody, he had pointed out to Caedmon before he left, lived the life of a scumbag like him without meeting useful people. A friendly visit here, a bit of social drinking there, a little eavesdropping and a coin in the right pocket bought him all the information he needed. And after a couple of false leads and a near miss or two, he had finally found the people and the place that he was after.

Spotting the alley he had been told to look for, he sauntered over to it without a glance in any direction. Sneaking and hiding were all very well, he knew, but in his experience nothing was easier to overlook than someone just walking along as if he knew exactly where he were going and had no reason to be furtive about it.

In the alley, he found a trapdoor not very well hidden under a stack of boxes. Checking to make sure nobody was watching, he shifted them aside and tugged on the trapdoor’s ring. It lifted, and after another quick check and a shrug, Heath opened the door and jumped down to the bottom of the ladder inside. The trapdoor fell shut behind him, and he found himself in the dark.

Almost. He waited sensibly until his eyes adjusted, and when they did, he spotted a faint light up ahead.

Heath took a deep breath. This was something he hadn’t done before. His world was lying and manipulating and getting everything he wanted out of life. Fighting and infiltrating and creeping into places owned by people who might well slit his throat on sight hadn’t been much a part of it. Still, it was always a good time to learn.

He checked that his dagger was in his belt. It was, but he left it there and moved cautiously toward the light, where he saw something that made him start in fright. Saeddryn Taranisäii herself, crouching on the floor in a little dirt-lined cellar. A lantern hanging from the roof cast dim light on her face, filling the ugly crevasse of her missing eye with shadow. Her long, greying black hair was tangled around her face. She didn’t look up when Heath came in but sat staring vacantly at the floor, mumbling to herself.

Forgetting himself for a moment, Heath took a step toward her. “My Lady—”

“Stop right there!”

Two people appeared from the shadows, putting themselves between Heath and Saeddryn. He stopped, quickly holding up his hands in surrender, but after his initial surprise, he soon relaxed. The two people—a man and a woman—had knives in their hands, but they held them uncertainly and kept their distance.

Heath offered up his brightest, friendliest, most reassuring smile. “Hello. Sorry if I startled you, but there’s no need to worry. I’m a friend.”

“So ye say!” the man said at once.

“I do,” said Heath. He became stern. “But who are you, may I ask? Are you a friend to this poor woman, or are you holding her prisoner?”

“We’re her followers, not her friends!” the woman snapped. “This is the rightful Queen of Tara!”

Very amateur, then, Heath decided. “Good,” he said. “Then I’ve come to the right place. One of you should probably guard the entrance before I say anything else.”

“Nice try, but we ain’t fooled,” said the man. “Get outta here!”

“What, so I can run off and tell the guard exactly where Lady Saeddryn is?” said Heath. “No, I think it would be better if you kept me here.”

They glanced at each other.

“Who are ye?” the man finally said. “How did ye find us?”

“My name’s Heath,” said Heath. “And I found you by talking to some of your friends. They were looking for new people to join the resistance here in Malvern. I’m not against a little treason, so I decided to join. And here I am.”

“Prove it,” said the woman.

“I found you, didn’t I?” said Heath. “I didn’t bring the guard. I’m not one of the guard. I’m just one man. I know things only your people know. I know that one of you found Lady Saeddryn after she fell out of that window and that you smuggled her into the city. I know you’ve been keeping her here while she recovers. How else could I know all that? Oh, and I also know that when she first came here, she went around the city talking to people and formed the resistance in the first place. That’s how you knew where she was going to be, so you could rescue her.”

They glanced at each other again.

“Fine,” the man said at last. “If ye know all that, then I believe ye.”

“Excellent,” said Heath. “Now, may I see Lady Saeddryn? I should ask how she is.”

The woman stood aside. “Ye can, but she won’t answer. She won’t talk t’nobody.”

“Feeling shy, is she?” said Heath, feeling he could afford a little flippancy.

Neither of them smiled.

“She’s . . . not well,” said the man, choosing his words with care.

“Is that so?” Heath approached Saeddryn. “Excuse me?” he said cautiously. “Lady Saeddryn? Hello?”

Once again, Saeddryn did not react to his presence in any way. She hadn’t moved since he had come in but stayed exactly where she was, staring blankly at the floor.

Heath shivered, and reached out for her shoulder. “Hello? Saeddryn? Can you hear me?”

The instant he touched her, Saeddryn came to life. She jerked upright and backed away, waving a hand wildly. “Not now!” she snapped, in a perfectly normal, irritated voice. “What are ye doin’ here, anyway? Get back to yer post!”

Heath managed to stop his heart from thumping, and took a step toward her. “Saeddryn,” he said. “Saeddryn! Can you hear me?”

“I said, get back to yer post!” Saeddryn rapped out. “Are ye daft? The Southerners could be here any moment. Do ye want me to tell Arenadd yer slackin’ off? Is that it?”

Heath glanced at the two rebels. The woman looked sadly at Saeddryn.

“See what I mean?” said the man. “She can’t see ye or hear ye. She just babbles like that.”

Saeddryn had stopped talking again. She shook her head slowly, dazedly. “Mother, I can’t do this,” she said, in a much softer voice than before. She took a step toward Heath, reaching out beseechingly. “Please, don’t make me do this. Yer the only family I got left.”

Heath took her hand in his and held it to try and comfort her. “Saeddryn . . .”

She wrenched her hand away. “What if I don’t want to?” she yelled. “I ain’t ye! I’m me. I don’t wanna just do whatever ye did; I want my own life, don’t ye understand? I don’t care about the stupid griffiners. They ain’t botherin’ us up here; can’t we just live in peace? I want a life, Mother. I wanna marry Rhodri, an’ I want a family. A real family. I ain’t a child no more! Let me go. Please, if ye love me, Mother . . .”

“It’s like she doesn’t know where she is any more,” said Heath, watching her with morbid fascination. “Like she’s forgotten where she is in her life.”

“Yer right,” said the woman. “She’s been doin’ that for days; talkin’ to people who died years ago, fightin’ enemies she must’ve killed when she was young. Even . . .”

“Yes?” Heath cocked his head.

The woman smiled sadly. “Yesterday she told someone she loved him, an’ then cried for an age afterward.”

“He must have said no,” Heath murmured.

The man looked at him. “What are we going to do? She’s been like this ever since we found her an’, she ain’t getting better. If we can’t fix her, she might be like this forever!”

Heath rubbed his face. “Ugh . . . I don’t know. Listen, do you have any food down here? I think better on a full stomach.”

“’Course,” said the woman, and hurried off. Her partner sat down on a handy chair and offered another one to Heath.

Heath sat and gratefully accepted some food when the woman returned. Apparently, he was one of the gang now.

While he ate, he watched Saeddryn as she continued to wander about the room, reliving some girlhood argument with her long-dead mother. She showed no sign of seeing anything else, or even noticing when she walked into a crate, and as Heath watched her, he grew steadily gloomier. He prided himself on being a jack of all trades, but he wasn’t a healer and knew nothing about how to cure madness, which was what he was more than ready to call this. What was he going to do? He’d found Saeddryn, but how was he going to get her back to Skenfrith when she was like this? He could get out of Malvern easily enough on his own, but doing it with a raving, instantly recognisable woman was another matter altogether.

“It’s no good,” said the woman, interrupting his thoughts. “Only the Night God can help her now.”

Heath raised his eyebrows. “The Night God . . . ?” he repeated slowly. “Hmm.”

The man was watching Saeddryn and looking almost tearful. “What did they do to her? My gods, what did they do?”

“I don’t think I want to know,” said Heath, not really listening. He kept his eyes on Saeddryn and let his new thought grow without prodding it too much in case it disappeared. Saeddryn had lost her mind, and with any other person that would be more or less the end of it. She’d be locked up somewhere and forgotten about, or left to wander at random until she died.

But, he reminded himself, Saeddryn wasn’t an ordinary person, or even completely human any more. She was the Shadow That Walked now, and the Night God had chosen and blessed her. Everyone knew the Night God’s chosen one was sent with a particular purpose to carry out, and Saeddryn couldn’t very well do that if she was mad.

Therefore, it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that the Night God would want to help her get better. Heath wasn’t even going to question whether she had the power to do that; you just didn’t spend time speculating about whether a god who could bring people back from the dead could deal with a little dose of insanity. Anyone with the power to cure death could probably cure just about anything.

The only question now was how to get the Night God to do it.

Well, Heath thought, how does one usually get a god’s attention?

“We should pray,” he said, without quite meaning to say it aloud.

“Eh?” said the man.

“I said we should pray,” Heath said more loudly. He stood up. “You’re right. Only the Night God can help her now. We just have to ask her.”

“We have,” said the woman. “We’ve prayed for her every night since she came here.”

“Then we’ll just have to make a proper show of it,” said Heath, after a moment’s consideration. “You there . . . er . . . can you get some rocks?”

The man looked blank. “What for?”

Heath shook his head. “Actually, never mind. I reckon we could use anything we can get our hands on. It’s the shape that really matters.”

“What shape?” said the woman.

“We have to make a circle,” said Heath. “A stone circle. Or . . . I don’t know, a circle of bricks or chairs or bits of wood.”

“I know where there are some bricks,” said the man, instantly latching onto the idea. “I can go and get them, if ye like.”

Heath nodded. “Do it. We should have it built by moonrise.”

“How many should I get?”

“Er . . . thirteen, I think.”

“I think we have that many.” The man darted off to climb a staircase into the house above.

While he was gone, Heath went to the trapdoor and poked his head out. He could see the sky, and he looked at it thoughtfully for a few moments before reaching into his tunic and bringing out a small mirror. It was made from a polished silver plate and was just about the only possession he’d managed to hang on to all this time. When he angled it correctly, it reflected the fading sunlight down into the cellar.

Heath spent some time experimenting with this and eventually retreated to check on Saeddryn. She had settled down again in the corner and was mumbling to herself. Heath thought he had never seen anything so utterly sad.

“Now then,” he told the woman, whose name he wasn’t planning to ask, “here’s the plan. We build our circle right about . . . here.” He scuffed a mark on the floor with his boot. “Once the moon comes up, we make Her Ladyship stand in the middle of it, and I’ll direct some moonlight onto her. That should put the Night God’s eye right on her.”

The woman nodded. “What should we do while ye’re doin’ that?”

“Pray,” said Heath. “I don’t think the words would matter that much.”

“I will, then,” said the woman. “Yer plan sounds good.”

“My plans always do,” Heath said gravely.

The man returned shortly after this, carrying an armload of bricks. He dumped them on the floor and went back upstairs to get the rest of them, and while he was gone, Heath and the woman set about building the circle. They did their best to make it as round as possible, standing the bricks on their ends and spacing them out as evenly as they could.

Once the bricks were in place, Heath, still unsatisfied, took out his knife and scratched some symbols into the ground—circles to represent full moons in front of each stone, and some stars and different phases placed in a pattern around the rest of the insi