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315 lines
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<head>
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<title>Mythlands - Chapter 9</title>
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<h1>9</h1>
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<p>
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He sat gaunt and brooding in Midthorn Keep on the high wooden chair that had long served as the Chief's seat. The Redthorn seat.
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</p>
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<p>
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The man who was once Cadwil and was now known as Mandrake had one bony elbow on a polished wooden arm where gargoyles and snakes intertwined in a polished
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tangle. His eyes, black as coal in a greying face, were hooded and his mouth was turned down, carving deep fissures on either side. He was shaking with a
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fine rage, trembling like a harp string wound tight. The black bearskin robe around his shoulders shivered in a dark-spiked harmony.
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</p>
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<p>
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The dark stone walls threw his anger back into the hall as if it had weight of its own, making the air feel suddenly tense and solid. Around the walls,
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staying close to the shadows, eyes watched, but no-one spoke. All heads were down or turned away. Catastrophe was in the air.
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake tried to speak, but for a moment his throat was locked by his fury and all that came out was a click and a little gasp. He drew in a breath and
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when he spoke again, his voice was like shards of glass.
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</p>
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<p>
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"You <em>lost</em> them." The words echoed back from the stone. "You lost <em>her</em>!"
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</p>
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<p>
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Two Scree troopers stood in front of him, heads bent, grey faces thick and tense. One of them shifted his weight from foot to foot, dumbly nervous. In this
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light his rough skin looked like dried fish scales.
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</p>
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<p>
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"They took down to the River," the captain said, voice like shingle on a tide-washed beach. "We flushed her out in the forest. Herself and two pups that
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was with her. Human boys they was. But they fought."
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake's brows came down, like black ledges shadowing those dark eyes. The two furrows deepened on either side of his mouth. Even in the corners the
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watchers could hear his teeth grind.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Oh, they <em>fought</em> you." Sarcasm oozed like poison from a sting. "See if I have this correct."
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</p>
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<p>
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He reached out a bony finger. The nail on it was long and horny.
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</p>
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<p>
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"And correct me if I'm wrong," he said, voice even quieter and loaded with menace. Everybody there knew he meant<em> if you dare.</em>
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</p>
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<p>
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"So. Brave soldiers. Here was a troop of you, fully armed, and with your hounds and bristlebacks. Am I right?"
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</p>
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<p>
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The Captain nodded slowly, narrow head bobbing.
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</p>
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<p>
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"So you heroic warriors meet a girl and two boys in the forest, and they <em>fought</em> you."
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</p>
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<p>
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Another nod. The Scree captain scratched his ridged brow with a thick horny hand. He did not recognise sarcasm.
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</p>
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<p>
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"That's the way it were, sir."
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</p>
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<p>
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"And these <em>children</em>, tell me, did they fight well? Did they fight like <em>soldiers</em>?"
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</p>
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<p>
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The Scree scratched again, as if he could hook the memory out from the front of his brain with a horny nail.
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</p>
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<p>
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"They killed a tusker," he growled. "Bowed it dead. An' two troopers. It was dark and they had the vantage on us."
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</p>
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<p>
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<em>"Of</em>
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course, brave Captain. I imagine they did," Mandrake said, very softly. Out along the walls, behind the thick pillars that stretched up into the darkness
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above, the figures crowded closer together, each trying to stay out of sight. They had heard Mandrake's voice take on that silky quality before. It was
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like the stillness in the air before the lightning strikes. And Mandrake could strike like a viper. His voice was low and almost kindly now. But they all
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knew it would begin to rise with his anger until the walls started to shiver,.
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</p>
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<p>
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"A girl…." he said. "and two boys. That would have been a <em>big</em> advantage."
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</p>
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<p>
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"We never 'spected them to fight, Sir Lord. Just cubs like them."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Just cubs, lost in the forest and then you lost them. You lost <em>her</em>. Three months you've been scouring moor and hill and when you find her," he
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raised his hand, waggled his fingers. "…. you let her slip away."
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</p>
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<p>
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"They reached the river, Lord Mandrake." The Scree captain was slow, his voice like grinding rock. A big black sword stuck like a cross above his head,
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jammed in a shoulder scabbard. His arms were like beech-tree roots, grey and gnarled. The black eyes under his narrow forehead flickered left and right,
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wilting under Mandrake's anger. "They reached the river and one trooper drownded. He went in an' never came up agin."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Good enough for him," Mandrake said. "You should all have drowned if you knew what was right."
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</p>
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<p>
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He drew himself up and walked round the back of the high chair. The walls here were festooned with spears and lances and shields and swords, spoils of old
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battles from times past. On the stone behind the chair, the new flag was stretched from side to side, red on black, a red dragon with the man's skull. The
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mark of Mandrake.
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</p>
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<p>
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"So, <em>tallowfingers</em>. You let them <em>slip</em>. And what happened next? Tell me. Tell me.""
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</p>
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<p>
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"They reached an islet in the river. It was too deep to cross."
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake froze. He took a slow breath. When he spoke his voice was even slower. "Did you <em>try</em>? Did you cut a tree and build a <em>bridge</em>? A <em>raft</em> perhaps?"
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</p>
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<p>
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The captain gulped. It hadn't crossed his mind. The Scree avoided water, except for the melt that came down from the snows high on the Scree Crags.
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</p>
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<p>
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"The flow were too strong Lord Mandrake. But we sent a wolfhoun' after them. And a fish came up and ate it down. Up from the water and ate it all down so
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it did."
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</p>
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<p>
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"So, I'm getting the picture here. Despite your precise orders, you let her go because of a bit of water and a…a… <em>fish</em>? You expect me
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to believe that?"
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</p>
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<p>
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The Fomorian shrugged his brawny shoulders, making the chain mail rattle on the scabbard. He dithered on his feet, one foot to another, visibly withering.
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Beside him, his second in command growled.
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</p>
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<p>
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"They lashed logs and floated away."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Of <em>course</em> they lashed logs and floated away." Mandrake's voice was rising now. The blade was sharpening. "Of <em>course </em>they did. Because
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they <em>thought</em> about it. The idea <em>occurred</em> to them. They used their <em>brains</em>.
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</p>
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<p>
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"And you?" He rounded on the second man. "What have you got inside that ugly Scree skull of yours? Maggots? Faggots? Sawdust and sand?"
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</p>
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<p>
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"I can't swim," the Scree grunted.
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake looked as if he would strangle in his own blood. His pale face suddenly went beetroot red and all the veins in his temples stood out like snakes.
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He leant against the wall, both hands gripping the stone as if he wanted to tear it down. His finger found the lip of one of the old shields and he
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snatched it down in a fury.
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</p>
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<p>
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"I would have drownded," the Scree said, and everything in the hall went very quiet. Mandrake shuddered, visibly, like a volcano set to erupt. With one
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violent wrench the shield ripped off the wall and he spun with it in both hands. It came down like a hammer on the head of the Scree trooper. The boss
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caught him square on the forehead with a sound like a gong. It reverberated from all the high walls.
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</p>
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<p>
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The Scree blinked, staggered back a couple of steps, raised a slow hand to its forehead where a gash suddenly appeared to fill with dull blood. Mandrake
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raised the shield again, jumped both feet off the floor and brought it down again with such force the Scree's knees buckled. The black eyes widened so far
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they looked like they would pop out and roll on the rough cheekbones. Beside it, the leader's hand darted automatically to the big sword on his back..
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</p>
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<p>
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A low groan went up from the observers around the walls. Bodies drew back into the shadows behind the pillars.
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake dropped the shield with a clang and the Scree trooper sank slowly to his knees and then, in slow motion tumbled forward to hit the flagstones with
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his forehead with the sound of a hammerblow.
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake turned away, almost casually, reached the wall again, raised one hand and gripped the pommel of a broadsword. He was grinding his teeth, trembling
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with utter rage. The observers shrank deeper into shadows. Mandrake turned, whirled like a ballerina and caught the Scree captain between shoulder and chin
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with such ferocity that the grey simply head flipped off and thumped to the floor, bounced and rolled under a table.
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</p>
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<p>
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The Scree lifted its hands up to where its face should have been.
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake watched, eyebrows raised, his colour fading now after the exertion, but he was still shaking as if a little earthquake was running through him.
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</p>
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<p>
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The Scree's calloused hands and thick fingers dabbed at where the face once was. Blood was flowing in freshets down its squat chest. Under the table, the
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mouth on the head opened and closed noiselessly, the eyes fixed on Mandrake, who cocked his head, as if caught now by something of passing interest.
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</p>
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<p>
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Very slowly, the Scree's knees buckled. It fell forward and the hands shot forward to hit the ground. More blood spilled out of the pulsing hole between
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its shoulders. Under the table the head groaned loudly.
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</p>
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<p>
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The headless Captain crawled a few feet on the flagstones, leaving bloody trails with its hands and knees, then flopped forward to the floor, feet
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twitching. Under the table, the head grunted, but no words came out, and its eyes closed with a little snap.
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</p>
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<p>
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Up above, where small windows drew light in across the rafters, there was a scrabbling sound, then a faint swish of wings. A big black bird circled down
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from on high, fluttering in the beam.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Oh my," Mandrake finally said. He touched the head with the toe of his shoe. It wobbled on its ear. "As I thought, no brains at all, but they do take a
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lot of killing, what you think?"
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</p>
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<p>
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No-one responded to the question. Nobody dared speak.
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</p>
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<p>
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The roak flapped down and alighted on the carved back of the high chair, opened its beak, turned its head from side to side. Its eye sockets were gaping
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and glistened with liquid. It fixed a sightless gaze on Mandrake.
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</p>
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<p>
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He cocked his head, much in the way that he'd looked with fascination at the headless Scree, and then he twitched. He turned slowly and the watchers in the
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shadow of the pillars saw the colour of his eyes begin to change from black to red. His skin took on a greyer hue, as if shadows were rolling underneath
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the surface and the fissures on either side of his thin lips deepened into dark crevasses. His eyes seemed to shrink back under the eaves of his brows
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until they could not even be seen..
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>Lost them</em>."
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</p>
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<p>
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The voice that came out of his mouth was not Mandrake's own. The watchers edged back further. He was changing again, and when he did that, it was a fearful
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thing. He twitched spasmodically, as if touched with disease or pain. The blind roak's claws scuttered on the high chair. The light from the high window
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faded and a darkness swelled in the air, as if night were suddenly fallen.
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>Lost them</em>." Mandrake's voice was just a rasping croak. He swung his head, mouth twisting into a grimace.
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>Lost them. Lost them</em>." He was muttering to himself in his strange new voice, one that was old and dusty and cracked. "Fools. <em>Fools!</em>" He
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twitched as if a fly had buzzed his ear.
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>Lost the girl and lost </em>him<em>!</em>"
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</p>
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<p>
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The roak hunched silent and black and motionless now.
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</p>
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<p>
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His face rippled and twisted, became Mandrake again. "I've hunted her for months."
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>She has eluded us for months</em>," the grating scrape of voice came again. His face contorted and ran like wax, mirroring the alteration in timbre
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and tone. "<em>Us and those creatures I harnessed</em>.
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</p>
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<p>
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Another ripple moved across his skin. "We will catch her."
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>You catch her</em>," he scraped. "<em>You catch </em>him<em>. He's the one that we want. He carries a thing I need. </em>Bring him<em>."</em>
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</p>
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<p>
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"He's but a boy. What's his worth to us? Who is he?"
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>An old enemy</em>," the cackling voice said. "
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<em>
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Old, but we remember him and his kind. Now is our day for revenge. My roak eyes followed them down the river, but they fought. Children. A litter of
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mongrel pups and they fought your Scree and my roaks. Fought and killed them. And they had help
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</em>
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."
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</p>
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<p>
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"Help," Mandrake asked himself. "Who helps them?
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>That we cannot see</em>," he replied. "<em>But they will suffer. Send your Scree. Like locusts. Burn every bush, every tree. Turn every stone. Smell them out, </em>sniff<em> them out. </em>Burn <em> them out. </em>Smoke<em> them out. </em>Spell <em>them out. But take them and </em>bring him<em>!"</em>
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake cocked his head again. "What do we want him for? A boy, my Scree say. Two worthless boys."
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>Two boys and a girl</em>," the hag voice came back. " <em>Bound together for what we don't know, but he carries a key and I will have it. I will lay his kind waste and rule all worlds."</em>
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</p>
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<p>
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There was a long pause. "<em>And you will have your spoils</em>."
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</p>
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<p>
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"The girl," Mandrake said. "I must have the girl."
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</p>
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<p>
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"
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<em>
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She is nothing to us save that she stands between you and the seat, so long as she walks. But she is bound to them now. I can feel it. I feel a
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foretelling come to pass
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</em>
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."
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake turned, as if to an invisible listener, his face contorting, changing colour. "I never heard of any prophesy on <em>boys.</em>"
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</p>
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<p>
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His shoulders narrowed, became hunched. Shadows swelled in his face. " <em>Trust me man-draco. I have given you riches. I have given you power. I will give you more, and you will rule this Temair and all its lands.</em>
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</p>
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<p>
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"<em>But bring me that pup. I smell a fate here. At the crossing of two roads. He has wandered across me and I feel his touch. I </em>will <em> have him</em>."
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</p>
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<p>
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The hag voice rose, sharp and brittle as glass underfoot. "<em>Muster the Scree. We send the roaks flying tonight. They will show us where."</em>
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake straightened and the shadows that had filled the room with gloom began to lift. His twisted features began to ease out and swell back to what they
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had been like before. His hunched form elongated until he stood beside the high seat, one arm on the carved backrest. The roak cawed once and took off in a
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whirr of black, circled up and out of the high window and the shadow that had entered to room with the bird slowly evaporated.
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</p>
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<p>
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Mandrake leant on the seat, breathing hard.
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</p>
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<p>
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The waiting people slowly came from behind the pillars, saying nothing, watching only as Mandrake's face untwisted like wax and went back to his normal
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sallow leer. His eyes were closed, but when he opened them again, the red light in them was gone.
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</p>
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<p>
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"Get me the Captain of the Marches," he bawled. "Get him to me <em>now!</em>"
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</p>
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