Shadow Phantoms by H.P. Mallory

Author:H.P. Mallory [Mallory, H.P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-08T18:30:00+00:00

NINE

PAGAN

The walls of the tent flapped noisily, the wind buffeting them as it blew in from across the sea. I sat, cross-legged, staring at the sheet of paper in my hands, shaking my head.

“No.”

Matherson shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’m sorry, Pagan. I’ve checked twice. That’s all of them.”

My eyes went back to the list of names, illuminated by the LED lamp that sat on the ground between myself and Matherson, my closest friend and most loyal lieutenant.

They were the names of the people who were camped here with us on the narrow spit of land called Worm’s Head or Pen Pyrod, jutting out from the Gower Peninsula on the south Welsh coast. They were the names of the Order of the Templars as it now stood. They were the names of those who not been killed or captured by the King’s Alliance and that bastard Duine.

“What about Dockery?” I asked, scanning the list.

“No.”

“Or Brie? Surely she…”

“Pagan,” Matherson placed a hand, the size of a dinner plate, on the paper, hiding it from my eyes. “Those whose names are there are the extent of those we have left. Anyone whose name isn’t listed is either dead or a prisoner. I’m sorry, my friend.”

The hideous mixed mash of emotions bubbled inside me as I tried to deal with this information. Anger was there, and sadness too, but above all was hot, red guilt. I wanted to say sorry. To Dockery and Brie and all the others. I needed to apologize for letting this happen to them, but I could not. Obviously.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sometimes it seemed as if Matherson could read my mind.

“How many taken or dead?”

“As many as there are on the list.”

“I didn’t count.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“How many?”

“Twenty-seven,” said Matherson, and his gruff voice seemed harsher than usual as he fought back emotions of his own.

“How many remaining?”

“Twenty-nine, all told.”

“The army of the Templars,” I spat the words bitterly.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’ll punch you across that handsome fucking face of yours if you say that again.”

“Do it if it’ll make you feel better,” said Matherson with a well-intended shrug. “But I think we both know how it’ll end up.”

I couldn’t help smiling. His name meant ‘bear’, and that was how he struck people. Matherson was six-foot-eight inches tall, as broad as a bus and as strong as an ox. In battle, he was a terror who cleaved a path through those who didn’t have the sense to run when they saw him bearing down on them. He was also as faithful as a dog and as sweet as a lamb to those who knew him. To see Matherson with children was to understand the term ‘gentle giant’.

“Should have moved camp sooner.” I folded up the piece of paper and tucked it away in the folds of my cloak. “When Bowen didn’t come back.”

“He’d asked you to give him time.”

I shook my head. “I knew better than to send an assassin. That’s not how I wanted this to be.”

“Huh,” Matherson rumbled.

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