It was black as midnight, but the sleek fur covering most of its body gave way to scales on the lower half of its legs, and elongated into hard plates over its shoulders, spine, and hindquarters. Its face was cat-like, but elongated with a slightly reptilian slant, and its eyes were a solid pane of black.

  It raised its muzzle toward him and snuffled air inwards, breathing in his scent. After three or four huffing breaths, it paused, blinked its eyes slowly, and then snuffed more of him in. There was a second pause, and then, with a grumbling growl, it curled back on itself and crouched once more beside Devas’s corpse.

  Around him, Tanag became aware of the other beasts turning away from him to settle back to their meals. What was he, that these creatures ignored him? He glanced up at the temple. It was tucked into the side of the cavern, but the stone forming the pillars and portico matched the rock in the walls and underfoot.

  Tanag wondered if this was what Arrin had dragged him out to see. His treacherous friend had certainly been excited by some new discovery, excited enough that Tanag had not been able to refuse his request to accompany him, and explore it.

  “Please, Tan. Your father wants you to ascend next year, and I to stand beside you. This could be the last adventure we have together, and I want you to see it before I let the wizards and priests loose upon it.”

  “Is it that important?”

  “You should see it. Columns like those Maskalon found last year. If the discoveries are half so good, I want to be known as the one who discovered it.”

  Tanag had understood. That Arrin wanted to share his discovery had been a sign of the strength of their friendship, he’d thought, for Arrin had grown up in the prince’s shadow all his life. There were no guarantees the find wouldn’t be assigned to him, instead.

  Arrin had paused to blow a kiss to Maietta as they rode out.

  “I shall marry her, some day,” he’d said.

  “But what of your Lannara? Aren’t you betrothed?”

  “I shall marry them both,” Arrin had replied, laughing, and Tanag’s spirits had lifted at the sight of his friend’s joy, even though he’d been sure Arrin jested.

  “Surely, you’ll have to choose, eventually,” Tanag had challenged, and Arrin had laughed and refused to reassure him until, discomfited, Tanag had asked him to describe what he’d found. Seeing the structure before him, Tanag couldn’t help but notice how closely it matched Arrin’s tale.

  Pushing memories of Arrin aside, Tanag stepped closer to the temple, noting how the beasts lifted their heads when his foot touched the bottom step, leading to the entrance. He took another step, and the beasts returned to their feasting. How did they survive when there were no intruders to eat?

  Standing beneath the eaves, Tanag inspected the columns more closely. Inscribed upon them were the pictures and runes, Arrin had described. The walls of the portico were painted with frescoes, oddly bright after such a long time buried. Tanag began to wonder if it had not always stood here, hidden from sight.

  Trailing a bony finger along the wall, he stepped beneath the portico, and felt the magic reaching out to greet him. Strands of power that wound up from the tiled floor to touch his heart, and blur his sense of purpose. Perhaps he should be grateful that Arrin had led him here, since a better suitor for Maietta there never was.

  Tanag stopped, took a step back, remembering Arrin’s breath on his neck as his friend had driven the yellowthorn deep.

  “I have plans for Maietta,” his friend had whispered. “She will feed my power.”

  “I will kill you if you bring her harm.” Tanag had tried to snarl, but all that came out of his mouth were soundless gasps and bubbles of blood as pain and poison flooded his system. “I will kill you if you hurt her.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  He had been gripping the sword hilt as he’d said it, trying to draw the blade, trying to defend himself from an enemy he hadn’t known he’d had. With an effort, he pulled himself free of the memory, back to the reality of where he was.

  The frescoes and runes were exactly as Arrin had described them. Arrin had denied going any further than the portico, but he’d been insistent about the value of what lay behind its doors. Tanag took another step backward, reached the top of the stairs and turned around. Arrin had also described the pedestals that stood either side of the stairs—three either side, six in all, atop of which stood statues of furred dragons or reptiloid cats. Arrin had always had a way with words. Tanag used to tease him about becoming a story master, but his friend had preferred to guard his back.

  Well, now Tanag knew why. He trotted down the stairs and the threads of magic fell away. The sound of his bare-boned feet on the rock disturbed him, and he moved over to where one of Devas’s companions lay. In life, perhaps, their feet would not have matched, but without flesh Tanag had no trouble pushing his foot inside the soft leather boot.

  He admired its workmanship as he pulled it on, and then realized a dilemma. While they fit his feet without any problems, the boots remained loose, unable to grip his shin bones as they would have gripped his calves. Tanag tried a few experimental steps, found the boots lodged around his feet and stayed on, even though they flapped around his legs. With a shrug, he decided to give himself until he reached the yellowthorn at the cave entrance to work out if he was better off with them, than without.

  At least, he was able to move more quietly.

  A clinking shiver of sound caught his attention, and Tanag looked over at where one of the beasts was trying to reach the lungs and heart of another fallen intruder. The clinking came from a finely meshed chain shirt.

  It took Tanag some time to remove it, with the beast snarling and lashing its tail all the while, but not, apparently, willing to touch him. It subsided with reluctance when he dropped the corpse at its feet.

  “This is all I need,” Tanag said, showing it the medallion and chain shirt, and trying not to hear how his voice came out as a sibilant whisper.

  If he’d had flesh, he’d have had goose-bumps. As it was, the sound sent a shudder through his soul. Tanag pulled the chain shirt over his head and let it settle across his shoulders, then he readjusted the medallion, sword, and belt so they sat over it. Now, he was ready to face the world beyond.

  * * *

  The sunlight was something he hadn’t counted on.

  It wrenched a cry of pain from him, and sent him stumbling back into the shadow of the cave entrance. Sunlight. Once, he’d reveled in it, enjoyed its touch on his skin. Now, the feel of it made him almost mad with pain, even diluted into dapples by the overhanging yellowthorn. How was he going to reach Arrin and the demoness by his side?

  Snorting disturbed his despair, an uneasy whicker of sound. A restless stamp of hooves revealed the adventurers had not walked to the caverns. Tanag wondered who had sent them, and cursed himself for not thinking to ask before. After all, he and Arrin had not come here by chance.

  Arrin had claimed to have found it in his studies, but Tanag wasn’t sure he believed him. Arrin had not had much time for study once he’d discovered Lannara and the joys of her bed. His friend had dwelt on little else, until Tanag had been forced to forbid more than one mention of it a day, and a short one at that, and only when no women were present. In truth, he did not believe everything Arrin had told him of those times. Now, though…

  He shrugged.

  It’s true, he thought. And there are some things of which a gentleman should never speak.

  Arrin had mocked him for saying so but, then, Arrin had been no gentleman.

  Tanag wept for Maietta and considered the horses. In the end he spent the day contemplating the sunshine’s forbidden beauty and waiting for nightfall. He wished he could sleep but, after however long he’d lain, unknowing, the remnants of his body could not find oblivion in rest.

  “I can sleep when I am truly dead,” he whispered, ignoring the nervous whicker to his right, and hoping what he said was true.

  The horses were surprisingly easy to catch—and the magic held him together as he mounted. Tanag wondered why, when animals were supposed to be sensitive to the evils of undead, they had even let him near, especially Devas’s charger.

  “I have come to avenge my sister,” Tanag told it, “And possibly your master, as well.”

  The big bay had lowered its head, and whiffled uncertainly down where the chainmail covered his breastbone and ribs. It had paused and snuffed against his shin bones, then gently bunted him with its head.

  Intelligence shone in its bright, dark eyes, making Tanag curious as to how much it could understand. In the end, he decided it did not matter. As long as the beast would carry him where he wanted, he did not really care.

  He waited, watching as the last vestige of light faded from the sky, observing the color leach from the surrounding countryside, and observing the resulting shades of grey turn to black. When the world refocused as clear as day, Tanag understood why undead were so hard to defeat at night. The darkness was no hindrance. He gathered the reins and guided the bay out of the yellowthorn thicket, letting the other horses follow as they would. Having released them, Tanag left them to find their own way home.