Authors: Mark Smylie
The Barrow
Published 2014 by Pyr®, an imprint of Prometheus Books
The Barrow
. Copyright © 2014 by Mark Smylie. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, digital, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or conveyed via the Internet or a website without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Based on a screenplay by
Mark Smylie, John Smylie, and Hidetoshi Oneda,
and on the setting and characters
created by Mark Smylie in the comic book Artesia.
Cover illustration © Gene Mollica
Cover design by Nicole Sommer-Lecht
Interior maps © Mark Smylie
Inquiries should be addressed to
Pyr
59 John Glenn Drive
Amherst, New York 14228
VOICE: 716â691â0133
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The Library of Congress has cataloged the printed edition as follows:
Smylie, Mark (Mark S.)
The barrow / by Mark Smylie.
pages cm
ISBN 978-1-61614-891-1 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-1-61614-892-8 (ebook)
I. Title.
PS3619.M96B37 2014
813'.6âdc23
2013037715
Printed in the United States of America
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For Monika,
with my love.
For John and Hidetoshi,
with my thanks.
And for those who have been waiting patiently,
with my apologies.
Prologue: In the Hills of the Manon Mole, in the Year 1471ia
PART ONE: IN THE CITY OF MONEY AND FILTH
Chapter Two: On the Way to the Forum
Chapter Three: In the City House of the Baron of Araswell
Chapter Five: In the Baths of the Foreign Quarter
Chapter Six: At the High King's Court
Chapter Seven: At the Library of the University of Therapoli
Chapter Eight: Round Midnight, When It All Goes Even More Terribly Wrong
Chapter Nine: The Public Funeral Plaza of the City of Therapoli, the 17th of Emperium, 1471ia
Chapter Ten: Above Sayles & Grim, Printers & Engravers
Chapter Eleven: At the City House of the Baron of Araswell
Chapter Twelve: Out of the City
PART TWO: ON THE ROAD OF SWEAT AND TEARS
Chapter Thirteen: Farewells at Pierham, the 18th of Emperium, 1471ia
Chapter Fourteen: So Close to Home
Chapter Fifteen: Skirting the Manon Mole
Chapter Sixteen: Across the Eridbrae
Chapter Eighteen: The Plain of Flowers
Chapter Nineteen: The Mizer Road
Chapter Twenty: The Great Wall of Fortias the Brave
Chapter Twenty-One: The Ruins of Lost Tir'gaile
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Bale Mole
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Ruins of the Black Tower
Chapter Twenty-Four: Camped before the Barrow
PART THREE: IN THE BARROW OF THE DEAD AND DYING
Chapter Twenty-Five: The First Attempt
Chapter Twenty-Six: The Shadow in the Night
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dreams in the Witch House
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Two by Two
Chapter Thirty: The Return of Azharad
Chapter Thirty-One: The Last Day
Epilogue the First: Woat's Inn
Epilogue the Second: Therapoli Magni
A Brief Glossary of Deities, Places, People, and Events
Somewhere in the dark, a woman whispered.
As was in the nature of the upper reaches of the Manon Mole, the hillside did not provide a great deal of cover for the men trying to hide upon it: dried chaparral, small gullies, and outcroppings of exposed and weathered stone. Further down in the lower hills the trees and thickets would be larger, closer together; not quite a wood, but easier for men and even horses to hide. But here, further up, where the wind was stronger, where the wind was weirder, the hillsides were not kind to those that did not wish to be seen. A set of sharp eyes would almost certainly have counted out eight of them, spread out a bit along the slope, huddled by rocks and small brush, clustered in two small groups of two, a group of three, and a last lone figure bringing up the rear: rough menâfor they were all men save the woman in the rear, but she was dressed as a man, which in the Middle Kingdoms was essentially the same thingânot quite arrayed for ambush, but who nonetheless preferred that others did not spy them so quickly, and who made do as best they could with what skill they had and with the scant protections provided by the uncaring earth.
But even sharp eyes might have missed the three men the furthest up the hill, almost a hundred yards ahead of their fellows, firmly pressed against a hillock rise of gray-green moss and dark stone in the weird wind, and peering intently up the slope toward its summit. That summit bore a crown of upright stones, ancient
menhirs
marking a place of
fae
power, and a pathway of more
menhirs
, some of them fallen over or reduced to piles of rock, was visible up ahead of them. The man in the furthest lead didn't pay them attention, instead focusing his own sharp gaze on an outcropping of rock and stone just below the summit of the hill. From most angles the outcropping would have seemed solid and unbroken. But from the vantage point the trio had chosen, the thin vertical maw of an opening could be seen, an entrance through the rock into the hill's side.
The man in the lead studied the thin sliver of darkness in the rock for long minutes, not moving, pressed flatly against the side of a large block of mossy stone. He was dressed in a dark brown high-collared long coat of stiff leather, tight blue-black cloth breeches, and black leather boots, all splattered with mud and dirt. His clothes were finely crafted, and dull bronze buttons, corded trim, and faintly embossed patterns in the Athairi style on coat and breeches prevented them from being described as plain. But they were also worn and rough-used, the mark of a man who spent long days in travel. A point dagger and heavy-bladed falchion were strapped to his side by a broad black leather baldric, which doubled as an extra layer of protection across his chest.