She felt them approach from a long way off. The energies, the feelings she knew were Beecham and Auric's, drew slowly closer, through the imposing night.

Liandra lay on the floor in the corner of the cabin, her head in mother's lap. The room glowed in the gentle light of an oil lantern Fairwell had lit. Evidently, the building had been abandoned, long ago. Its current occupants had spun webs throughout the roofing, scattered dirt and muck about, and left the place with a musty smell. There was little in the way of furniture but a rotten dresser and a pair of uneven stools. Still, it was a roof and four walls, and served them well enough to keep the weather off their heads.

Liandra sat up with a start. She could feel Auric and Beecham near. "They're close," she said.

Fairwell and McJames looked up from the stools. Stroud shot her a worried look. For the last few hours he had paced around the cabin, the sword he had taken from Beecham dangling from his hand.

"Sorry," she said. "Auric and Beecham. They are close."

Tension fell away from the others, and they returned to their quiet fatigue.

"So Auric found him, then?" Stroud said.

McJames looked like he was about to say something, but instead he simply puffed out his cheeks, blew out a slow breath. Seemed he might throw up at any moment. He'd been pallid since the captain had died.

Liandra had surprised herself with her resilience, if that was the right way to think about it. It had been horrible watching the captain die. He was not a bad person, did not deserve what had happened to him. But she found she was able to push the vision of his death out of her mind, almost forget it. At least, she could when Auric was near. She found a lot she could borrow from the man, his stoicism, his fearlessness, but it came with a price. When she took from him, she also found self-hatred creeping in. She quickly realised the old man wasn't necessarily free of fear because he was brave, rather he didn't care what happened to himself, which brought with it its own kind of danger.

There was a banging at the door. Stroud looked at her, his heavy brow drawn. She nodded, and he opened the door. Auric and Beecham stumbled in, the soldier leaning heavily on the older man. Stroud caught them, and together they laid Beecham on the floor. It was difficult to see in the dim light, but it looked as if Beecham's face had been burned into a bubbled mess.

"What happened to him?" Stroud said.

"The blood that comes out of those creatures," Auric said, "don't get it on you."

"Glad we found that out." Stroud leaned over Beecham. "No offence, but better you than me."

"Yeah, I know," Beecham said weakly.

"Is he okay?" McJames said, then pressed the back of his hand against his mouth.

"He'll live, if that's what you mean," Auric said.

"Hmm. What a shame," Stroud paused a moment, then added, "No offence."

Beecham only gave a dismissive groan.

Auric turned to Fairwell. "Some damp cloths would ease his pain, Father."

Fairwell stared blank for a moment, then climbed to his feet, looked around the cabin. "Right. I can take care of that."

The priest fumbled about, reached into his pack, rummaged and pulled out a spare gown. He produced a little knife Liandra hadn't known he had, and cut the gown into strips. He wet them with water from his canteen, and lay them across Beecham's face. The young soldier winced, sucked air through his teeth, then slowly relaxed.

"We need to decide what we do next," Stroud said, pulling attention away from Beecham's plight, "how we're gonna get away from those things."

"We can't do anything until the morning. It's too dangerous to go out in the dark," Auric said.

"Agreed. I can barely make out those things in the day. At night, I could be standing right in front of one and not know it. And what's the meaning of that darkness they put out?"

"We should be asking her," McJames said, pointing a finger at Mother.

Heads turned. All the men except Beecham looked towards Liandra and Mother. There was suspicion in the air, suspicion, and fear. Even without Liandra's gift, that was plain to see.

"You do know something about those things, don't you?" Auric said.

Mother sighed, pushed herself straighter against the wall.

"Yes."

"No need to stand on ceremony. Out with it," Stroud said. He waved his sword around like a baton.

"I think you can put that away." Auric gestured to the sword.

"Fuck off," he scoffed. "I'm not putting this away until we're far from those black fuckers."

"There aren't any around."

"And how could you possibly know that?"

"Because she isn't screaming." He pointed across the cabin at Liandra.

Stroud looked at her, then down to the sword. "You make a good point." He set the weapon against the wall. "But she better start talking." He cocked his head towards Mother.

Mother sighed. "I will tell you what I know. We may not be alive without the aid of all of you, so I suppose I owe you that much. But there is one thing I would ask of you, prisoner."

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Stroud scoffed once more, folded his arms. "And what is that?"

"Please stop using that language in front of my daughter." She looked at Stroud, her eyes stern, her jaw set.

"Fine," he said with a joyless smile. "Pretend you didn't hear that, girl."

Liandra said nothing, just stared at Stroud for a moment. The language didn't bother her. She had heard it all by this point. But it mattered to Mother, and she wanted her to feel in control, sensed, right now, she needed to feel in control. Liandra met eyes with Mother, and gave her a quick smile.

Mother smiled sadly back, then turned her gaze to the others. "I'm not sure where to start."

"When those creatures ambushed us, you said Vallendred had found you," Auric said. "Why would Vallendred be looking for you?"

"It's…a long story."

"We have time," Stroud said.

Mother took a slow breath. "My daughter and I are more than just travellers. Three weeks ago, we fled the Imperial palace at Ossilia. We fled to save our lives. Vallendred asked something of me that I could not, would not, do, and I feared he would have us imprisoned. So, we fled, eventually found the captain, and paid him to escort us. He knew we had come from the palace, but did not know the circumstances in which we had left. I let him think we were still in Vallendred's good graces."

The others looked about the room. Liandra sensed surprise, though not a great deal. She and Mother obviously did not belong. They had been raised differently to the soldiers, the farmers, the peasants. Perhaps the others had guessed Liandra and Mother were of imperial royalty already, but they probably would not have guessed just how royal they were.

"Why here?" Auric said. "Why come to Nothstrum?"

"Whitehall. Baroun, the lord of the keep, is my half-brother. He will shelter us there. He will protect us. And we share a border. Nothstrum was perhaps the path of least resistance."

Stroud eyed them both, chewed at his lip with an odd little grimace. "None of that tells us anything about those things that are after us. What the hell are they?"

"They're people," Mother said simply. "At least they were, once, before Vallendred's scholars turned them into what you saw, turned them into monsters, weapons of war and murder for his ever-broadening crusades."

"How does someone turn a man into one of them freaks?" McJames asked, suppressing more nausea.

"I don't know how it works. There are potions, there are rituals, there is…magic."

"There is no such thing as magic," Father Fairwell said. "There is only faith."

"And how do you explain what that girl can do, holy man?" Stroud said.

"The vessel may take any form, but it still fills from the same source."

"You think her a miracle?"

Mother waved a hand. "It matters by what means they come to be. Those creatures are real, and they are after us. I suspect they have been searching since we left Ossilia. We have to get to Whitehall. We'll be safe there."

"Or, those things will follow us, and slaughter us there."

"I understand your reticence, Stroud. You are still a prisoner. But if you help us with this, I will be able to vouch for you. I will speak to my brother, and advocate for your freedom."

"I think I'll worry about that if we actually get there."

There was a break in the conversation. Liandra listened to the wind sighing through the trees outside. A light rain had begun, and it pattered dull against the cabin's wood roof.

"What about him?" Auric said, gesturing to the young soldier on the floor. Fairwell took the rags from his face, wrung them, and wet them fresh. "He needs medicine. His wounds may not be deep, but if infection sets in, he will surely perish before we reach Whitehall."

As if to punctuate Auric's words, Beecham groaned as Fairwell lay another strip of cloth across his face.

"I do not know what we can do for him, other than to cross as much ground as fast as we can," Mother said.

"He's only going to slow us down," Stroud added. "Best we leave him here."

"We're not going to leave him behind," McJames said. "He's my friend."

"What are you going to do about it, kid?"

McJames stood up from his stool. He stomped over to Stroud, threw a swing at him. Stroud caught him by the wrist, twisted it, and dragged him to the ground. Fairwell gasped. Liandra made to stand up, but mother put a hand on her shoulder, pulled her gently back to the floor.

"You really think that was going to work?" Stroud spat, leaning over McJames.

"Let him go," Auric said. Liandra sensed nothing but calm from the old soldier.

"We're not leaving him behind," McJames said, groaning as Stroud twisted his wrist.

"I said, let him go." This time Auric stepped up to Stroud, put a hand on his chest, and pushed hard enough to shove the man across the room. Stroud stumbled, ended up with his back against the wall, frowning at Auric. He was surprised, Liandra realised, at just how strong Auric was.

McJames scrambled to his feet, massaged his wrist with his other hand. "Everyone seems to be forgetting, this is a military escort, and I am now the ranking officer. I am the one who will make the decisions."

Stroud laughed at that, one short exclamation. "You think you can make the decisions? You can barely make water without getting piss on your pants."

"Well, maybe we'll just decide to move your sentence up, and we can be rid of you now."

"And might be I take you outside and string you up to a tree. Does that sound good to you?"

"None of this is getting us anywhere," Auric said. "We all need to calm down." He raised his hands between Stroud and McJames. "We're not leaving anyone behind, and we're not executing anyone. I can see those abominations. Whatever it is they are, they don't seem very intelligent. They move slow. I can keep everyone safe. We can make it to Whitehall."

"How is it that you can see those things, anyway?" Stroud asked.

Auric shrugged. "I don't know."

"I do." Liandra surprised herself with the words.

The others turned to her, confusion in their eyes. Even Mother seemed to listen eagerly.

“Fear,” she explained. “It’s fear that gives those things their power. When we were first attacked, Auric was the only one of us who wasn’t afraid.”

Stroud looked as if he were about to protest, but held his tongue, remembering exactly who was accusing him of being afraid.

“We were all afraid, deathly afraid. I know. I was too. But not you.” Liandra looked at Auric. He looked back, his face placid. She waited for him to add something, to perhaps explain why he had stared into languid horror and felt nothing, but the grey-haired man only looked back. Perhaps he had not yet admitted it to himself. “I borrowed from your strength, and I stared down my fear, pushed it back into the darkness. Only then did the beasts become clear to me.”

“I suppose that’s a theory,” Stroud said. “Doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“Do you have a better one?” Auric said.

Stroud shrugged.

“I will do the best I can to help everyone overcome their fear, but I worry it will take a lot from me. There is only so much I can do without physical connection, and it will be difficult. You must help me, all of you, to put panic away, to banish terror from your minds, and face the darkness with a tranquil heart.”

“Easier said than done,” McJames said, standing and pacing over to a window. He stared into the night, unmoving.

Silence passed through the cabin. Everyone took a moment to process what had been said. It was Auric who eventually posed the question Liandra had been dreading.

“Why would Vallendred send those things after you two? Why not simply let you go? There must be some reason he is so desperate to stop you.”

Mothers sighed. “You are right. There is more to it. Vallendred has lost himself. He has become consumed with his lust for conquest. He sets his mind to it, day and night. I fear he has lost all love he ever had. I thought he would still have room in his heart to let us live, to let Liandra live, at least. She is, or perhaps was, precious to him. Alas, I was mistaken.”

The others did not look enlightened. They eyed Mother and Liandra, and Liandra sensed distrust. Only the whole truth would mean anything now. Liandra knew complete honesty was the only thing that would ease their discontent.

“Why you?” Stroud finally said. "Why would Vallendred care about you?”

Mother looked to Liandra, her eyes brimming with tears. She opened her mouth, found no words, and closed it again.

"Because," Liandra said for her, turning stern eyes towards the others, "I am his daughter, and heir to the Ossilian empire."