She could fight unconsciousness no longer. Oblivion slipped over her like fire over kindling.

Chapter Nine

Lily and Morrigan had covered an impossible distance while pursued by the hooded figure. Lily couldn’t settle, could barely breathe still, even after they had cantered on for hours after they lost sight of him. Her hands were frozen over the reins, her knuckles so strained that it looked like they were trying to break through her skin. The rain had calmed into an annoyingly constant drizzle that meant she hadn’t been able to dry off at all since their ordeal. She just shivered incessantly, goosebumps covering her body.

As they rounded a corner, the most welcome sight came into view. A coaching inn. It was the only building or sign of human habitation she had seen since Ardnaroch. There were no farms or grazing animals around and the landscape was completely barren in the darkness, aside from the endless bracken and heather.

Lily struggled to understand why someone, years ago, had decided to drag all the materials here to build such a rickety building. Coaching inns were required on busy byways and through-roads, but the track Lily was riding down was barely even visible through the tall grass and marshy moorland. It was almost as if this inn had fallen from the sky one day and its owners had clawed their way up from their nameless graves beneath the heath to run it.

As she drew closer, Morrigan slowed instinctively, and both Lily and her horse gazed up at the huge stone building. Parallel to the heavy oak front door, a tall signboard stood at a crooked angle, rusting in the damp evening air. The sign announced that Lily had arrived at The Old Silent Inn. The sign was painted in muted colours, depicting a ghostly ship with silver sails, illuminated by the light of a delicate crescent moon and several twinkling stars. The illustration had probably once been breathtaking, a real testament to the artist’s skill, but now, with its peeling paint, the sign only intensified the ramshackle, soul-stirring atmosphere of the inn itself. With each gust of wind, the rusty metal hinges that held the sign to its post sounded like a woman’s pained cry and it echoed across the gathering darkness.

There was a soft, warm glow coming from the grubby windows – a tell-tale sign of the candles and roaring fire that would surely be waiting inside. She shook off her childish fears, dismounted, and led Morrigan around the side of the inn to where there was a covered stable. There were no other horses, so Lily tied up her horse in the nearest, most sheltered stall and patted her on the side affectionately.

Morrigan had been her companion for just a day, but it felt like the shared exhaustion of the journey had forged an unbreakable bond between them. From now on, she decided, wherever I go, Morrigan goes. Just before she left the horse, Lily took Morrigan’s muzzle in her hands and kissed her gently on the nose. ‘I’ll be back with some water and some oats just as soon as I’ve sorted a room out for the night. Rest now, sweet girl.’ Morrigan snorted with gratitude.