‘No, commander,’ the sergeant confirmed.

‘Has anyone approached them?’

‘Not after your earlier warnings. We waited for you to arrive to assess the situation.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Brynd turned to Lupus, said abruptly, ‘Shoot one.’

The private walked to the very edge of the forest. With a clear aim at most of them, he nocked an arrow, brought it to anchor point. ‘Any one in particular, commander?’

Brynd tilted his head, said, ‘Try that one.’ He pointed towards the nearest motionless figure. ‘Aim for the head. We know that a body shot isn’t all that effective.’

Lupus released the arrow. It whipped through the air and struck the draugr in the eye with a crack as the skull shattered. The creature fell to the ground under the force of the blow, twitched slowly, like a fish on dry land. None of the other draugr reacted. They merely remained stationary in the moonlight, staring ahead, or at nothing at all.

‘Cover me,’ Brynd ordered. ‘And, sergeant, line up all the archers you’ve got. Make sure they watch my back and keep the rest of those things away.’

‘Yes, commander,’ Woodyr replied, and returned to her unit.

To his left, the archers lined up against the fringes of the forest.

Brynd made his way across the moor, stepping tentatively over the soggy grass, crept up to the creature that Lupus had just shot. Its skull had been split by the force of the arrow, the shaft still buried deeply. Stitching around the creature’s neck, a black line evident across its blue-tinted skin. Brynd unsheathed his sword and poked at it, but it didn’t respond, maybe it couldn’t sense the touch of the metal against its skin. A worrying sign.

Brynd glanced back at the forest, reassured at the metal glinting in the moonlight, the swords and arrowheads at the ready should anything happen to him. He walked on between the other draugr. Their heads were all tilted to one side, making them appear to be asleep – except he could see their eyes clearly reflecting the moonlight.

He approached one of the creatures that looked like a woman, the long blonde hair stirring gently in the breeze. He scraped his sword down one arm, drawing black fluid from beneath the skin. The draugr didn’t react, obviously couldn’t feel any pain. Was this in any way a human after all? He realized that, whatever they were called, these creatures were not alive in any normal sense, but in all his years in Jamur service he had never seen anything like them.

Returning to the fallen draugr, Brynd untied his belt, hooked it around the creature’s ankles, dragged it back to the edge of the forest, his feet slipping on the grass, and all the time looking back to check that none of the others were now following.

Sergeant Woodyr came forward to help him. ‘What do we do, commander?’

‘I don’t see these ones as a threat exactly, but I think we should shoot them all down. We’ll need a barred caravan, then pile them in and bring them back to Villjamur. They can’t be left standing out here. Make sure to cover them up so the public don’t see them. There’s enough panic in the city already.’

‘Sir,’ she saluted, then gave her men the order to fire.

Dozens of arrows were instantly let loose.

SEVENTEEN

Randur entered the complete darkness of the caves of Villjamur. It was the first time he’d ventured here, mainly because everyone had warned him of the perils. Too many unsavoury characters, they claimed. You’ll get your head kicked in. Robbed. All the worst villains in Villjamur live there.

And that was precisely why he was heading this way.

It was the smell that got to him first, a rancid, surprisingly humid odour. The first street he came across was like those on the lower level of the main city, the same kinds of taverns emptying out drunken men and women who were clawing the walls to guide themselves home. Shops all closed, ghostly presences in the night. The few coloured lanterns burned steadily, however, in the absence of any breeze. Stray dogs pursued their solitary paths through narrow alleys. People walked by with hoods raised, giving them all a needful anonymity.

Randur slid his hands into his pockets, could feel the jewellery, sharp and cool against his palm. He didn’t know exactly how he should be feeling about his latest behaviour, but he would sell the stuff and use the money to pay Dartun. Surely granting his mother the gift of life counted as a positive moral act. He could be doing nothing wrong if he was saving a life. Lady Yvetta would barely miss those trinkets, and he would continue doing the same with many other women in Balmacara. I’m fine with this, he decided. Lady Yvetta was hardly going to expose herself by branding him a thief.

An excellent plan had been initiated. Randur’s fictional thief, the one that stole from rich lonely ladies, had been spotted. Or rather, Randur was spreading rumours to anyone who would listen about a short, fat, blond man that dressed in baggy breeches – crimes to fashion too! – who had been sighted on more than one occasion, slipping from windowsills into darkness. Randur even suggested that the culprit might have been loitering near Lady Yvetta’s apartment the previous night. His tracks had to be covered. He had managed to blag himself this far through life – another set of lies would hardly hurt him. But from now on he would have to select his women and jewels with more caution.

The further he penetrated them, the caverns became bizarrely higher. Some of the spires from the main city could have easily fitted under here. There was the eerie high-pitched sound of bats echoing far off above, and there was a lot of thick smoke due to the lack of ventilation. How far back did this strange section of the city extend?

He came across a fenced-off open section, like an excavation. It was about fifty paces by a hundred, stretching back from his path to the rock of the cave itself. By the light of a lantern stood a hooded man working with a shovel in his hands.

‘Hey,’ Randur hailed him.

The man stopped digging. ‘Fuck you want?’

‘What’s going on here? Archaeology dig?’

The man laughed. ‘Graveyard, mate. A new one.’

‘New one?’ Randur echoed, resting both hands on the low wooden fence.

‘Yep,’ the hooded man said. ‘They’ve filled all the deeper holes down in the caves. Our esteemed Council raised funds for a building here to be cleared, so we could fill the land it occupied with the dead.’

‘Thought they always burned the dead. It’d save room, too, wouldn’t it?’

‘Aye, you’re right.’ The man began to chuckle. ‘Only thing is, this place here is for murderers they’ve executed.’ He leaned forwards conspiratorially. ‘Burying them keeps their spirits trapped here. Can’t have their foul spirits passing on to the next realm, can we? Ha! They’ll be filling it up quick. Take it you’ve not been down this way much? Where y’headed, mate?’

‘I’m not sure exactly,’ Randur said. ‘I’m looking to sell something.’

‘Whatcha got?’

‘A few bits of jewellery,’ Randur replied. ‘Not on me now, though. Any dealers down this way?’

‘Depends. You won’t get much cash down here unless you go, well… even deeper underground, if you follow. See, shops here in the caves ain’t likely to hold much in the way of jewellery. Would soon get stolen.’

Randur said, ‘So, where do I go to find such a customer?’

‘That depends. You can look after yourself OK?’

Randur peered into the hooded darkness concealing the man’s face. ‘I reckon as well as anyone in this city.’

‘That’s the spirit, lad! Couple of taverns further in’s what ya need. Probably a half bell’s walk if you carry right on down this road. Look out for the Jinn or the Garuda’s Head. You just tell the bar staff there that you’re trying to offload some goods. There’ll probably be some sort of brawl in there most likely.’