Page 5 of Prince of Shadow and Ash
“Kill all the centaurs?”
“Yes.”No.He kept his expression calm and neutral.
“Good.” The sorcerer counted the roots under his breath. “Ten,” he muttered. “Good thing, too. Room for error. Tricky business, breaking an enchantment.” He looked at Regulus. “I need one more thing.”
Regulus stopped himself from protesting. He needed to rest and eat. He wanted to go home, even if only for a couple days. The sorcerer never sent him out again immediately after returning. But it was no use arguing. The sorcerer got want he wanted. Always. “Yes, my lord?”
“Wait here.” The sorcerer took the roots inside the tower and returned with a tin goblet and a small carving knife. “Take off your glove and give me your arm. I need your blood.”
“What?” Regulus gaped. “Why?”
The corners of the sorcerer’s mouth turned down. Tendrils of pain, like red-hot vines growing under his skin, shot up Regulus’ right arm. He grunted and used his teeth to pull his glove off his right hand.
“Yes, my lord.” The pain faded as he held his arm toward the sorcerer.
“Better.” A momentary flicker of a smile made the sorcerer’s beard twitch. “You should be thanking me. I thought about making you bring me the blood of one of your friends. Maybe the one with the beard. Or the boy.”
Regulus flinched. “I’ve been obeying you, my lord,” he said, choosing his words carefully as the sorcerer grabbed his hand. “I only hesitated today, and I did as you commanded and slaughtered the centaurs. There’s no need to harm my men.”Please, Etiros. Let him be forgiving.
The sorcerer pulled down on Regulus’ hand so he could see the underside of his wrist beneath his gauntlet. “Mm, yes. You’ve become such an obedient pet. Almost a pity. I did so enjoy making you hurt them.” The sorcerer sliced the knife across Regulus’ wrist. Regulus drew in a sharp breath that hissed between his teeth. “But hesitate again, and I’m going to lose my temper.”
Regulus stared at the dead wood vine and hoped his master wouldn’t notice his rage. Any defiance always ended in pain. If he was lucky, only his own. The sorcerer let his blood drain into the goblet until the bond linking his life to the sorcerer’s closed the wound, preventing him from bleeding out.
The sorcerer waved Regulus away as he walked back inside. “Run on home. I have important matters to attend to.” The door slammed shut, leaving Regulus and Sieger alone with the dead forest.
Shoulders sagging, Regulus remounted. “Let’s go home, Sieger.”
The stars had been out for hours when he arrived at Arrano castle. It was an old castle, long out of style, but it was his. The square central tower and surrounding four-story wall stood atop a hill. A flag bearing the Arrano crest—a red rose over crossed white swords on a field of black—flew from the north wall turret. The barren hill rose in a gradual incline to the front of the castle.
Regulus didn’t follow the road up the hill. Instead, he struck out around the castle. Far downhill, with enough space around the hill to ensure a clear line of sight in case of attack, the woods began again. A massive willow tree grew at the edge of the woods. Regulus scanned the surrounding area, ensuring no one was near, then led Sieger under the swaying curtain of the willow’s hanging branches. The stallion whinnied, protesting what came next.
“I know.” He patted Sieger’s neck. “I know.”
Near the tree’s trunk rested a large boulder. Regulus picked it up, the strength the sorcerer’s mark granted him making the task easy. A large chunk of grassy ground pulled away with the stone—a dirt and grass-covered wooden panel cemented to the boulder’s base. A hole appeared where the panel and boulder had been, with dirt steps leading into the earth.
He set the boulder down so the edge of the panel jutted out over the opening. He descended halfway, turned to his right, and felt for the hole in the dirt wall. His fingers found the torch, flint, and an apple where he had left them, and he set about lighting the torch. With the apple and lit torch in hand, he went back for Sieger.
The stallion shook his head, pawed the ground, and snorted. Regulus sighed. “Come on, boy.” He held out the apple, and Sieger reached for it. Regulus pulled it back a little and backed down the stairs. With a snort of frustration, Sieger followed. Once down the steps, Regulus gave Sieger the apple. While Sieger crunched the apple, Regulus stuck the torch in an iron rung in the dirt wall. He returned to the steps and pulled the panel and boulder back over the tunnel entrance. Maneuvering it into place over his head by holding onto the handles on the bottom was awkward, but he’d done it enough times it didn’t take long.
The tunnel, which was just tall enough and wide enough for Sieger, sloped upward. He led Sieger until they reached another set of packed dirt steps. Another wooden panel blocked the exit, this one covered with stones to make it blend in with the floor of the stables and to give it extra weight. He deposited the torch in an iron ring in the wall and heaved the trapdoor aside. He extinguished the torch and led Sieger out of the tunnel.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Stalls abutted the outer castle wall to his right, and to his left stretched a wooden wall with shuttered windows. Narrow bands of moonlight streaked across the hay-strewn dirt floor. The smell of horses and manure filled his nostrils, and the quiet, steady breathing of horses provided a backdrop to the muffled stomp of Sieger’s hooves. He led Sieger to his stall and returned the cover to the tunnel entrance. He left Sieger, still wearing all his tack, and headed through his private hedge-protected lane from the stables to a side door in the castle. All part of preventing his few servants from knowing about the Black Knight. He pulled off his helm, closing his eyes as welcome night air cooled his skin.
A lamp and flint stood on a pedestal near the castle door, waiting for him. With the lamp in one hand and helm in the other, he crept up the stairs, his armor echoing. He knocked on a plain wooden door near the top of the stairs and waited. Nothing. He couldn’t blame the boy, but he also couldn’t get out of his armor unaided. He knocked again, harder, and opened the door.
“Harold.”
The young man sat up in his bed. “Wha...my lord?” Harold rubbed his eyes. A lad of sixteen years, Harold was lanky and a touch fidgety. His dark blond hair was a mess, and he had drool in the scraggly beard he was so proud of.
“Yes. Get up, I need help with my armor.”
“Of course, my lord.” Harold teetered out of bed and toward the door, blinking. Regulus suppressed a smile. “I’ll carry the lamp, my lord.”
They continued up the winding staircase, went through a door into a hallway, and walked down to Regulus’ room. Harold unlocked and opened the door.
A giant mass of dark fur bolted through the door and jumped on Regulus, knocking him back. Despite his exhaustion, Regulus grinned.
“Hey, Magnus.” Regulus scratched the dog behind a floppy ear as its giant pink tongue licked his face. Standing on his hind legs, the massive dog was almost as tall as Regulus. “All right, down boy.”
