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away；　and　they　were　now　completely　surrounded。
‘We　won’t　make　it；’　said　Raben。
‘Stay　here　and　die　then；　damn　you；’　said　Calard。
With　a　roar；　he　forced　the　enemy　back；　swinging　his　swords　around　in　a　pair　of　deadly　arcs。　Taking
advantage　of　the　space　he　had　created；　he　leapt　atop　the　bar　and　ran　along　its　length　towards　the　back　of
the　inn。　Peasants　reached　for　him　but　his　blades　sliced　out；　keeping　them　at　bay。　He　leapt　off　the　far　end；

slamming　a　pair　of　enemies　to　the　floor。　He　came　to　his　feet　in　the　kitchen　doorway；　blades　at　the　ready。
The　kitchen　was　disgustingly　dirty；　and　rats　scuttled　in　the　shadows；　but　it　was　free　of　foes。　He　spotted　a
door　on　the　far　wall。
Glancing　back　into　the　common　room；　he　saw　Chlod　emerge　from　beneath　the　bar；　scurrying　under
tables　towards　him。
‘Quickly！’　Calard　shouted。　Peasants　were　close　behind　his　manservant；　their　red…rimmed　eyes　wide。
Raben　was　standing　alone；　surrounded。　He　turned　on　the　spot；　holding　his　sword　at　the　ready　as
peasants　closed　in　around　him；　too　many　to　hold　off　alone。　Briefly；　Calard’s　gaze　met　Raben’s　across　the
room。　He　saw　the　outcast　mouth　a　curse。　The　peasants　attacked　as　one　but　Raben　had　pre…empted　them
and　was　already　moving。　He　swayed　aside　from　a　vicious　blow　and　launched　a　lightning　counter　that　took
off　an　arm　at　the　elbow。
Calard　shoved　Chlod　into　the　kitchen。
‘Unlock　the　door！’　he　ordered。　Calard　stepped　back　to　give　himself　more　room　to　swing　as　the
enemy　came　at　him。　The　first　through　the　doorway　was　hacked　almost　in　two　as　he　cleaved　it　from
shoulder…blade　to　armpit。　He　dragged　his　sword　free　and　waited　for　the　next　to　enter；　but　the　peasants
hung　back；　none　willing　to　be　his　next　victim。　Glancing　over　his　shoulder；　he　saw　Chlod　at　the　back　door；
and　began　to　edge　towards　him。　The　peasants　came　after　him；　spreading　out；　but　they　were　wary　now　of
his　blade。　There　was　a　commotion　behind　the　peasants；　and　he　caught　a　glimpse　of　Raben　barging　his
way　through　the　press　of　bodies。
‘Wait；’　he　ordered　Chlod　as　he　heard　the　bolts　of　the　back　door　sliding　open。
The　knight　burst　into　the　room；　but　the　leg　of　a　chair　wielded　as　a　club　struck　him；　and　he　stumbled。
Three　peasants　were　on　him　in　an　instant。　Without　thought；　Calard　moved　to　his　aid。　He　hacked　into　the
bare　back　of　one　of　the　peasants　crouched　over　the　outcast；　severing　its　spine。　He　kicked　another　away；
sending　it　flying　face…first　into　a　bench　top；　bringing　a　pile　of　dirty　pots　down　with　a　crash。　He　slashed　at
another；　and　it　reeled　backwards　with　a　screech；　blood　spraying　from　its　neck。　The　peasants　had　now
circled　around　them；　filling　the　kitchen。
Calard　gripped　Raben　under　the　arm　and　helped　him　to　his　feet。　Blood　was　dripping　from　bite
wounds　on　his　cheek　and　neck。　The　outcast　knight　had　lost　his　grip　on　his　sword；　and　drew　a　slender
knife　from　his　boot。
‘You　should　have　gone　without　me；’　said　Raben。　‘I　would　have。’
‘And　that　is　the　difference　between　your　kind　and　mine；’　said　Calard。
The　peasants　came　at　them　in　a　rush。　Two　died　to　Calard’s　bastard　sword　and　another　to　Raben’s
stabbing　knife　before　the　two　knights　were　overwhelmed。
Seeing　his　master　disarmed　and　dragged　to　the　ground；　Chlod　slid　back　the　last　bolt　on　the　door　in　a
rush　and　threw　the　door　open。　The　cold　night　air　washed　in　and　without　a　backwards　glance　he　bolted
out　into　the　darkness。
Before　he　had　made　two　yards；　a　hand　locked　around　his　throat。　His　legs　went　out　from　under　him；
and　he　was　hurled　back　into　the　kitchen。　From　the　floor；　he　looked　up　to　see　a　gaunt　peasant　appear　in
the　doorway。　His　eyes　widened　as　the　figure　came　into　the　light。
‘No；　no；　no；　no；　no；’　said　Chlod；　scrambling　backwards　on　his　hands　and　knees。
The　figure　was　covered　in　crude　tattoos　and　wore　a　necklace　of　fingers　around　his　scrawny　neck。
Splinters　of　bone　had　been　pushed　through　the　skin　of　his　forearms。　He　looked　down　at　Chlod　and
smiled；　exposing　stained　teeth　that　had　been　filed　to　points。
‘Hello；　Chlod；’　he　said。

CALARD’S　ARMS　WERE　wrenched　behind　his　back　and　his　wrists　bound　with　tough；　sinewy　cord。
‘Chlod；’　he　said。　‘What　in　the　Lady’s　name　is　going　on？’
His　manservant　stood　nearby；　shivering；　his　eyes　wide　and　staring。　He　avoided　Calard’s　gaze　as　he
too　was　bound。
‘By　all　that　is　holy；　I　swear–’　said　Calard；　but　his　words　were　cut　short　as　a　hastily　tied　noose　was
looped　around　his　neck。　A　foot　between　his　shoulder　blades　pinned　him　down　as　it　was　yanked　taut；
making　him　gasp　for　breath。
Alongside　him；　Raben　was　suffering　similar　treatment；　held　face　down　on　the　floor　while　he　was
trussed　up　like　a　prize　hog。
The　tattooed　leader　of　the　peasant　rabble　barked　something　indecipherable　in　a　repulsive；　guttural
tongue　and　Calard　and　Raben　were　dragged　to　their　feet。　Another　barked　order　and　they　were　hauled
out　into　the　night。　The　tattooed　peasant　followed；　holding　Chlod　tightly　around　the　back　of　the　neck。
‘We’ve　missed　you；　Chlod；’　he　hissed。
VII
FOR　OVER　THREE　hours　they　were　dragged　through　stinking　marshes　and　haunted　forests　by　the　loping
parade　of　filthy；　cannibalistic　peasants。　Their　captives　were　not　the　feral　brood’s　only　spoils；　they　had
hastily　ransacked　the　larder　of　Morr’s　Rest；　filling　sacks　with　cheese　and　bread；　meat　and　wineskins。
Corpses　had　been　mutilated　and　dismembered；　and　several　of　the　sacks　were　now　soaked　through　with
blood；　stuffed　with　human　body　parts。
They　kept　off　the　roads；　hauled　along　paths　overgrown　with　thorn…bushes　and　rushes。　Occasionally
they　were　forced　into　the　open；　scurrying　across　muddy　fields　filled　with　rotten　crops；　watched　over　by
the　silhouettes　of　scarecrows。　Sometimes　they　could　see　lights　in　the　distance；　but　their　captors　seemed
keen　to　avoid　areas　of　habitation；　and　veered　away　from　them。
They　trudged　knee…deep　through　vast　tracts　of　swampland；　beset　by　great　clouds　of　stinging　midges。
They　climbed　from　this　stinking　morass　as　the　ground　rose；　and　their　pace　picked　up　again　as　they　ran
through　an　abandoned　village　that　had　been　left　to　rot。　The　peasants　seemed　more　at　ease　here；　speaking
amongst　themselves　in　their　low；　ugly　tongue。　Calard　was　poked　and　prodded　by　peasants　whose　eyes
gleamed　with　hunger。
Feet　slapped　loudly　on　the　roadway；　which　rose　steadily；　winding　its　way　through　the　dead　village。
Soon　they　were　in　the　countryside　again；　leaving　the　decrepit　houses　behind　them；　but　their　progress
continued　upwards；　the　muddy　roadway　clinging　to　the　steep　sides　of　a　hill。　A　crumbling；　six　foot　wall　ran
alongside　the　high　side　of　the　road。
They　turned　through　a　decaying　stone　gateway　overrun　with　thorn…bushes　and　ivy。　An　ancient　gate
hung　on　rusted　hinges；　and　the　procession　of　peasants　passed　through。　Calard　noted　the　hourglass　carved
atop　the　archway　as　he　was　bustled　through　beneath　it。
‘A　Garden　of　Morr；’　he　said。
They　rose　above　the　cloying　blanket　of　ever…present　fog　and　Calard　was　afforded　a　clearer　view　of
their　surroundings。　The　graveyard　reared　up　before　them；　clinging　to　a　hilltop　riddled　with　tombs　and
mausoleums。　It　was　massive　and　sprawling；　a　veritable　city　of　the　dead；　tens　of　thousands　were　likely
buried　here。　The　graves　lowest　on　the　hill　were　packed　in　tight　and　marked　with　cracked　headstones　and
slabs　worn　smooth　by　the　passage　of　time。　Many　had　clearly　been　desecrated　and　dug　up。　Winged；
skeletal　statues　being　slowly　strangled　by　ivy　stood　over　some；　while　in　other　areas　mass　pit　graves　were

commemorated　with　little　more　than　crude　epitaphs　scratched　into　stone　slabs。　Large　family　mausoleums
protruded　from　the　hillside　as　they　climbed　higher；　the　richer　tombs　carved　deep　into　the　rock　cliffs。
Black　roses　grew　in　abundance；　their　petals　soft　and　velveteen；　their　deadly　thorns　curved　and　shining
silver。　They　exuded　a　heady；　sickly…sweet　aroma。
Ravens　perched　in　leafless；　twisted　trees　clinging　to　the　hillside；　staring　down　at　the　procession
passing　below。　Images　of　death　were　everywhere；　from　carved　hourglasses　and　black　roses　on　tombs
and　opulent　facades　to　extravagant　sculptures　depicting　the　god　of　the　underworld；　Morr；　in　his　various
guises
The　peasants　became　more　animated；　cavorting　and　leaping；　grinning　and　guffawing。　More　of　t