Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

struck the plaster smartly with the hilt. The brittle stuff cracked and fell away in flakes, revealing the outline of a sealed-over door. Jordan swore silently.
    The door handle was long gone, and the door itself was undoubtedly locked, not to mention probably stuck fast in its frame. Getting the damned thing open wasn't going to be easy. He'd need half a dozen men with axes and crowbars, to start with ... He turned to Wee Geordie, standing patiently beside him.
    'I'm afraid the way's blocked, Geordie. This door must have been sealed off a long time ago, and forgotten. I can't open it. We'll have to come back another time, when we're better prepared.'
    'No,' said Geordie softly. 'I don't think so.' He looked steadily at the hidden door. 'It's been a long time since I last came this way. A long time ... I'd forgotten all about this door. But I remember it now.'
    The plaster cracked and splintered all across the wall, and the outlines of the door were suddenly starkly revealed. Wee Geordie continued to stare at the door, and it slowly stirred and groaned in its warped
    frame. The wood trembled violently, and then there was a shrill shearing of metal as the old lock burst apart. The door swung open on squealing hinges. An old, musty smell issued from the dark hallway beyond. The bloodhound padded confidently forward, and Wee Geordie followed him into the gloom.
    Jordan put away his knife, grabbed a wall-torch from a nearby holder, and went after them.
    The hallway had clearly been deserted for some time, but there was something about the dark, echoing hall that suggested it had been not so much forgotten as abandoned. All the furniture and trappings were still in place, though covered by a thick layer of grime and dust. Tapestries and portraits hung on the walls, while lamps and torches stood unlit in their holders. Jordan was tempted to light some of them with his torch, but didn't. He felt as though he was walking through the past, and he didn't want to disturb anything. Wee Geordie and the bloodhound pressed on, and Jordan had to hurry to catch up with them.
    The only sound in the hallway was the quiet crackling of the torch's flame, and Jordan's echoing footsteps. A chill went through him as he realised neither the boy nor the dog made any sound at all.
    'I remember this place,' said Geordie suddenly, looking about him. 'I used to come here with my mother.
    It was a short cut. But it didn't look like this. Everything's so old, and dusty. How long is it since I was last here? I can't remember . . . there's so much I don't remember any more.'
    He didn't look to Jordan for an answer to his question. Jordan couldn't have answered him anyway; his throat was closed by a pity so intense it was almost pain. A long time ago, something terrible must have happened, something that ended in the deaths of Lady Mary and her son Geordie. Perhaps they were both
    murdered, here in this hallway, he thought. The odds were he'd never know the whole story. All he knew for certain was an impotent rage at the injustice of a young child condemned to wander lost and alone for centuries, knowing only that somehow he had become separated from his mother . . .
    The bloodhound stopped suddenly. Jordan's heart sank, and he looked ahead of him for another obstacle, but as far as he could see the way ahead was clear. He held his torch high, and the hall stretched away silent and empty for as far as the light carried. And then Jordan's hackles rose as he realised he'd been walking down the hall for quite some time, and there was still no sign of it ending. He began to wonder just how far the hallway stretched, and where exactly it led to ...
    The dog suddenly barked happily, and wagged its tail furiously. It sat down and stared ahead into the gloom. Geordie stood beside the bloodhound, his face open and yearning. A light appeared in the distance, and slowly began to move towards them. Jordan felt very cold, and his hands began to tremble.
    He was near to something strange and magical, in a place where he should not be. Part of him wanted to turn and run, but he couldn't. He watched, fascinated, as the light drew nearer, and wondered from what far boundaries that light had come. It grew steadily brighter, and began to take on a vague shape. Wee Geordie and the dog didn't move at all. The light slowly formed into the glowing figure of a young woman with long blonde hair and pale blue eyes. She shone so brightly it hurt to look at her, but Jordan