We climbed one flight of stairs and found ourselves in an extensive library. Rows of wooden shelves ran as far as my eyes could see, and there were all manner of strange brass instruments dotted about the place. This was all illuminated by a dull blue glow in the room, emanating from the cracks between the stonework. Occasionally, the waning daylight filtered into the room through one of the windows carved into the stone. The room had an odd feeling to it that I couldn’t quite place my finger on until I approached one of the windows and saw we were at least halfway up the tower. Yet we had only climbed one flight of stairs.

  I turned to tell Gertha, but she had continued walking down the aisle toward the end of the room, which I then realised was twice the width of the tower from the outside. The ever-present tingling in my mouth made sense now. We were in a building that was clearly entirely magical, where the very dimensions of the building didn’t make sense. I could have done with something like that in my tiny room back in Avandun; it would have been nice to have enough space to walk longer than three seconds in a straight line. I looked at Eggs, who was happily perched on my shoulder. They fixed me with a golden-eyed stare, and I grinned.

  “Quite the adventure you’ve had since hatching, eh, little one?” I said.

  Eggs stared at me, listening to my words but obviously not understanding me. Wyvern’s couldn’t speak Avinish.

  “It’s not over yet, but I’ll keep you safe and sound, don’t you worry.”

  Eggs continued to stare, blowing hot air out of their nostrils before licking my eyebrow.

  “I’ll take that as a thank you.” I laughed before following after Gertha, Eggs gently bobbing on my shoulder.

  Gertha was sitting cross-legged on the floor, flicking through a hefty, dusty tome. It had a dark cover, inlaid with gems. I thought that it was a good job that Eggs didn’t give a damn about shiny things so far, because any other lizard would have been off with that tome to pile onto their gleaming horde.

  “Reading a book?” I asked, mainly to get her attention.

  “No, I’m baking a pie,” Gertha replied. I snorted.

  “Any use to us?” I couldn’t see a title on the front, and it had lots of symbols and words I couldn’t understand on the pages.

  “I’m not sure yet, I’ve not read very far.” Gertha didn’t look up from the page, instead tracing her finger over the same section three times before turning the page.

  “So it hasn’t got anything about myths or Wyverns in?” I shifted my feet as I craned my neck, trying to get a better look at the book. Any information would be helpful, especially as I was raising a creature that by all rights shouldn’t exist. I didn’t even have experience with a human child, let alone a bloody Wyvern.

  Gertha closed her book with a deep sigh, “Tullen, could you keep an eye on what’s going on outside, please? I can’t glamour the tower for a while.” Her smile seemed genuine, but her eyes were stern. I got the message loud and clear.

  “Sure, I’ll give you some space,” I said, and then for some reason only the bloody Mummer knows why. I bowed, causing Eggs to glide off and land on a bookshelf. Silence hung between Gertha and me when I stood up straight again. Why did I have to be so bloody stupid at times?

  “Thank… you?” Gertha said, her tone the kind you’d use when asking a drunk man lying in the gutter if he was ok.

  Finding the awkwardness unbearable, I retreated to a window that I reckoned would be some way above the entrance to the tower. If anyone or anything had picked up our trail, it would approach from that direction. I put my spear and bow to one side, leaning against the wall, but having learned my lesson from the other day, I kept them both within arm's reach. The dark glass made everything appear a shade darker than the early evening’s light would have done, but I was still able to see up to the treeline well enough. I stood there, motionless, gradually looking at every piece of the environment, taking it in and mentally recording it.

  I needed to be able to spot anything new or that didn’t quite fit in with the environment. A skill you hone in the String Guard, because when most of the beasts you defend against can change the colour of their scales at will, you get good at that sort of thing. If you don’t, you’re wyrm food. Or a Dragon carries you off to its nest. I’d seen that happen to a poor new String Guard who went beyond our wall to pick up a doe he’d brought down from his post a few years back. I shivered slightly at the memory. His watchmate had loosed an arrow into his leg as he was carried off in a desperate attempt to put him out of his future misery. All he’d managed to do was hit him in the leg, and the Dragon’s victim screamed until he was beyond sight and hearing. The Dragon fodder's watchmate hung from the wall the next day. In Avandun, you don’t take a human life, ever. If you do, you get the choice of indentured service. If you’re already in service, whether voluntary or as punishment, your life is forfeit instead. They needed all the people they could to guard against the lizards or supply them.

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  I rubbed my eyes; I was already tired. Sleeping rough and surviving a Lindwyrm attack three times will do that to you. I ran through my peripheral vision exercise. I raised both my hands in front of me, pointing my fingers toward each other, moving them slowly. Then I gradually moved my arms apart, keeping my eyes fixed ahead as I let the movement be seen at the edges of my vision. I then repeated this on the vertical and diagonal lines. It sounds weird but it helps your eye train for movement in your field of vision. Why do you think horses and deer are so skittish? They don’t miss a lot. We have eyes in the front of our heads, like the Lizards or other creatures like wolves. So we have to practice.

  I clenched and unclenched my fists as I watched, standing rooted in place. I took comfort in my routine, although I wished I could have had Ulther to wind up. Eggs made for pleasant company for all of two minutes before gliding away. I don’t think they had the patience for a constant watch. There was nothing around, not even a rabbit and the light finally retreated into the night, and our clearing was mercifully illuminated by the Moons, where it's said the Gods lived and from where Serf was cast down out of jealousy by the Crowned One, according to some stories. I rubbed my thumb on my forehead to ward off the evil for even thinking of the Crowned One, despite not really believing. It didn’t hurt to be careful.

  Movement suddenly caught my eye, at the edge of my vision, and I instinctively grabbed for my bow, despite being completely unable to loose an arrow from here on account of the glass. Instead, I stayed still, silent, and I watched. Around thirty figures walked into the clearing, and my blood ran cold. They were mostly dressed in red and black, with some clad in angular dull metal breastplates and the rest in what I assumed at this distance to be leather armour. Some carried bows, others spears or glaives. The colours they displayed marked them as Zellish. Could they be the ones that were notable by their absence at the site I’d found Eggs? Were they looking for my Wyvern? Perhaps they had fled instead, but that couldn’t be right; the Zellish were mostly mad bastards, especially their soldiers, who were eager to bring death to the lizards. They reckoned that if they died in glorious battle, then they would become one with the Godbody. I was glad I wasn’t a fully-blooded Zellish; aiming to become one with a divine corpse was not my idea of a fun afterlife.

  Two things stood out about this group. Firstly, they were completely synchronised, to the point that they would have put the most practised and refined honour guards of the world to shame. Their heads turned at exactly the same time, their feet stepped as one. They looked like puppets all connected to the same master. The second was the figure at the front. There was a blueish tinge to their skin that marked them as Nargazian, and their face was a ruined, partially devoured mess. Ice curled its fingers around my heart as I felt the sudden urge to cry out in horror.

  Brenyl was very fucking dead, Eggs had made sure of that, and here the dead man was leading a group of Zellund’s finest. This was unnatural and flew in the face of everything I understood about the world. Every figure turned toward the tower, approaching it with a deliberate poise that was as graceful as it was unnatural. Now that the Zellish were closer to me and with the moonslight streaming directly onto them, I could make out bite marks on necks and claw marks through chests, the work of a Lindwyrm’s teeth and claws. Vertebrae jutted out of broken necks, and some of their arms hung limply; those Zellunders had clearly been broken by the Lindwyrm’s tail. My heart pounded as my body readied for a fight, and I grabbed my spear and bow. I fought to control my breathing, which was coming out in shudders as if I were cold.

  They crowded around the heavy gate of the Tower, and I heard dull thuds as hands fumbled against the metal.

  “Tullen, what’s tha-” Gertha raised her head toward me, but I placed three fingers on my lips. She immediately stopped talking, and I beckoned her over to me.

  She stood by my side, clutching the tome close to her chest as I motioned downward. I was sure Brenyl’s Zellish wouldn’t hear us, but until a few moments ago, I was sure a corpse would stay a corpse. I wasn’t taking any chances. I leaned in close to Gertha’s ear and cupped my hand to it.

  “I need you to not react, but to just understand what I say. Okay?” I whispered. She nodded and leaned her head closer to me.

  “The people below us are the fallen Zellish from the convoy. Somehow living again. One of our attackers is there as well. They move the same, as if they are one. They still have weapons.” I turned back to the window to watch as they fumbled against the door before the group suddenly turned away from the tower, and in that unsettling, poised way, they traversed to the treeline, gently becoming one with the darkness. I'd normally make a quip about the enemy retreating, but I was uncomfortable; this entire situation was wrong, and I just wanted to get behind thicker and taller walls.

  “They couldn’t figure the door out. Looks like we’re safe for now.” I said, allowing myself to release the tension in my chest. I placed my bow and spear back against the wall.

  “What the fuck is going on, Tullen?” Gertha rubbed her face with one of her hands before sighing heavily.

  “Nothing good. The forest is more dangerous than we thought.” I said.

  “Then we need to get to somewhere safe and stable, beyond Perek’s reach. Fast.” Gertha replied, flicking open her tome. I agreed, the forest was bad enough as it was without adding walking corpses to the mix, I didn’t want to be in a fight against an enemy that didn’t stay dead, it hardly seemed fair.

  “The only places that we’d be safe for sure would be one of the other kingdoms or republics. A freetown might hold us for a while, but we’d eventually be sold for gold, favour or both.” I spat. I’d spent a little time in the freetowns. They were rough places with only a veneer of law and order. Good places to train a young Steelweaver Peevan had always said.

  “Then we need to pick somewhere and go. Fast.” Gertha said.

  “Can’t we stay in the Tower? It seems secure enough, maybe there’s a store room for food?” I ventured.

  “With what I’ve uncovered, Tullen, we can’t stay in one place for too long, no matter where we go. Here, look.” She shoved the tome in front of my eyes, and I took it from her hands. I could feel the thick leather of the cover; it was remarkably supple.

  I couldn’t take in the words immediately because my mind was still distracted.

  The Dead were walking, and all of our lives had just changed forever.