The Caverns of Night

By Edwin C. Mason

In the Age of Four Empires, distant kings lead distant armies, and bandits roam the land. Always, remnants of a darker age lurk beneath the surface.

On the cusp of manhood young Erramun comes to the Haegmarch to take possession of his new lands and meet his new bride. He expects years of peace to grow into his role, but instead of wise coaching from Lord Harduwich, he finds a shambles, his new home ransacked and his people in chains.

For young Theudhar, the loss is deeply personal. His mother is dead, his father and sister taken. Now he finds himself the acting marcher lord, and raiders within the land are his responsibility.

Now they must lead older and wiser men in a pursuit through forest and mountain into the Caverns of Night, to rescue their bride and sister from humanity's oldest and foulest enemies.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Edwin C. Mason
• Release date: May 28, 2013
• ISBN: 9780992008383

Edwin C. Mason

Edwin C. Mason was born in 1964 in a house half full of books and dedicated his early years to similarly filling the other half. Now he dreams of filling other people's houses the same way. He started writing in 1977 after reading "Pirates of Venus" by Edgar Rice Burroughs, and in the intervening years he has made every mistake it's possible for a writer to make. He lives in Toronto with his dreams and delusions.

Book preview

The Caverns of Night

Edwin C. Mason

GND Publishing

Toronto, ON Canada

© 2013 Edwin C. Mason

All Rights Reserved

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Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

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About the Author

The Caverns of Night

Edwin C. Mason

Prologue

She didn’t care what her father said, they were lovely and new. Worrisome, certainly, but the trees themselves were hardly evil. Why, Aelfs wandered among the woods outside the castle, why not woods within the castle as well?

Saskia bent to admire the delicate pink petals of a soapwort in what had been the bare ground of the castle bailey only a week before. A new-grown mature beech stood only a few feet from her.

Breeze rustled the leaves above her and blew her flowing hair across her face. As she straightened, a soft, half-transparent form stopped before her, fast-beating wings keeping her tiny body still in front of Saskia.

Saskia’s body trembled, her eyes opened wide. Was she to be favoured with a message from the elder folk, just like the romances—a wonderful sign as she waited for her promised husband to arrive—or perhaps even a word from the Aelfs?

She smiled at the delicate creature, and asked, Do you have something to tell me?

The Fey nodded. Lines crossed her forehead and she pointed into the new trees as her mouth opened to say a single word: Run!

Saskia turned to look into the trees, then dropped her book, grabbed her skirts in both hands and ran.

One

Erramun rode beside his father along the wooded trail. It wouldn’t do for his future vassals to see him hanging back, so he rode with only two armsmen between him and whatever awaited. One black-haired Buskadian, one sandy-haired local. Theudhar and his uncle Gerulf, with no need for display, hung back and chatted with their subjects. Erramun’s subjects someday.

What are you thinking of? Kepa asked. His father’s hand rested on his shoulder and it felt good there.

My bride. What else should I be thinking of? He had seen her portrait, with delicate blonde hair flowing around a small, oval face with a long, slightly upturned nose. She looked a little like Theudhar, but not too much.

The farmland, the vineyards on the south slope and the orchards on the north. Defensibility more than anything else, but that shouldn’t be a problem here. The hills are high enough and steep enough that attack would be difficult. You can’t just think of passion; you’ll be responsible for all of this soon, landed and sworn to your own lord. A Horseman, and lord of your own manor, keeper of this castle, commander of your own garrison. You won’t just be husband to a pretty young thing.

Yes, father, he said patiently. Then he thought better of it. I really do understand, but surely I’ll have to pay some attention to my own bed.

Kepa chuckled. Fair-haired peasants in the woods paused in their labours to watch them pass. The nearer ones bowed and Erramun followed his father’s example by nodding in return.

Do they know, do you think?

They know, Kepa said. Never underestimate smallfolk. They’re poor and trained in peaceful pursuits instead of war, but they aren’t stupid. They know they have a new lord and they probably know what you look like. He shrugged. But that matters little. They will judge you by what you do and how you rule them, not by your youth or your dark hair. Besides, these ones aren’t even yours.

What’s that?

Lad, that village belongs to the convent, not to the castle. You should have studied the maps more closely.

They topped a small rise, turned a corner, and the castle came into view at the top of the hill. The grey stone walls blended into the clouds above them, but Erramun could make out pitched roofs and a wooden gate. When he looked at his father, Kepa’s smile had gone, replaced by a scowl.

Gerulf rode up beside him, a pine needle in the corner of his mouth. What is it? He was still smiling.

Look at the trees.

His smile vanished. The fair beard that hid his scarred jaw stopped moving, showing how lopsided it was. It wasn’t like that when we left. Not at all.

What’s wrong? Erramun asked. Everything looked normal.

Kepa snorted. Think defensibility.

He looked at the castle walls, hard to see among the thick-grown trees, their leaves shading and sheltering the walls. But it shouldn’t be. It’s overgrown, he said. The trees should be cut back half a furlong from the castle.

Theudhar caught up with them then. When he saw the castle, the kicked his mount into motion and lashed it with the reigns. Erramun made to follow, but his father put a hand on his chest, then followed Gerulf when he left at a canter. Erramun followed then, but the armsmen, both his father’s and Gerulf’s surrounded and passed him.

Young he may be, and all but untried, but he was wise enough to watch the woods as he passed, the old trees and new undergrowth, nothing looked odd at all. No bandits or foreign soldiers lurked in ambush, no bears or leopards, no monstrous beasts. No foul sprites, but no fair ones either. Theudhar said that Aelfs lived in these woods, but none appeared.

Erramun arrived in the last knot of horsemen, and saw that the trees not only grew up to the castle walls, but past them as well. How could that be?