Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

she had a hole big enough to look through. She dismissed her sword, but kept the unfocused balefire crackling round her hand as she waited to see if anything was going to come flying or oozing out of the opening she'd made. Nothing did. The silence dragged on, broken only by the unsteady breathing of the guards, and the spitting of the balefire. Not a whisper of sound came from the room beyond the door. There was only the smell, thick and corrupt and nauseating.
    Taggert conjured up a small ball of light, and sent it gliding through the jagged opening and into the room beyond. She dismissed her balefire, and stepped cautiously forward to peer through the hole in the door.
    She was still careful not to touch the door, and did her best to breathe only through her mouth. The room was dark, lit only by the glowing ball. The walls were a glistening wet pink, and so was the low domed ceiling. Slender purple veins traced disturbing patterns in the pink. The room was half full of a dark, viscous liquid that lapped sluggishly against the rosy walls. Bones floated on the surface. They might have been human once, but already they were losing shape and definition as the liquid dissolved them.
    Taggert sighed tiredly, and stepped back from the door. The ball of light winked out, and darkness returned to the room.
    'They're dead,' she said flatly. 'They're all dead.'
    She'd known it from the first moment she'd recognised the smell, but somehow she'd still hoped she might be wrong. She always hoped. It was all she had left to keep her sane.
    'What happened in there?' said Doyle quietly. 'And what the hell is that stench?'
    'The room ate them,' said Taggert. 'And I don't suppose the inside of your stomach smells any better.
    We're going to need a Sanctuary. Putting this right would take all the High Magic I have. Let the Sanctuary take care of it.'
    'Of course, my dear,' said Grey Davey. 'That's what Sanctuaries are for.'
    Grey Davey was a man of average height, but more than a little on the scrawny side. He always looked as though he could do with a good meal to put some meat on his bones. His face was drawn and gaunt, and seemed to fall naturally into apologetic lines, as though he felt he should be apologising for his very existence. His clothes were well cut, but old and faded. Taggert always had the feeling on meeting Davey that he was covered in cobwebs. He was supposed to be in his early forties, but he looked old beyond his years, as though drained by having to struggle against a consistently unfriendly world. And yet he was still a Sanctuary, and a power burned steadily beneath his grey exterior. Taggert felt better just for seeing him, and one by one Doyle and his guards sighed and relaxed a little as a feeling of peace swept over them. The lights seemed to burn a little more brightly, and the shadows were just shadows again. Even the smell didn't seem as bad. In Castle Midnight, there were always a few places and a few people that remained unaffected by the Unreal. Places of ease and comfort, people of good cheer and better company. Sanctuaries against the darkness of the world, where Reality remained safe and constant.
    Grey Davey was a Sanctuary.
    Taggert bowed respectfully to him. 'Got a nasty one here, Davey. Four dead that we know of, maybe more. See if you can put the room right, at least.'
    Davey nodded. 'I don't know what the world's coming to, Kate. I'd swear the whole damned Castle's coming apart at the seams. And now four more dead. How many is that now?'
    'Too many. And it'll get worse before it gets better.'
    'Wouldn't surprise me. If I had any sense I'd have left here years ago. I've always said this place was unstable, but who ever listens to us? We're just the poor sods who have to clean up the mess afterwards.
    Still, I'm here now. Let's see what I can do. Get those guards out of the way, Kate, there's a dear; they're distracting me.' Doyle glanced at Taggert, who nodded. He started moving his guards away while Davey studied the sealed door. No one took any offence at Davey's attitude, it was just the way he was.
    They could tell he didn't really mean it. Mostly. Davey placed his hands flat against the door, and pushed.
    The wood gave reluctantly under the pressure, stretching unnaturally, like taffy, and then the door tore
    itself free from the surrounding wall with a rending of splintering wood. It hung inwards from one hinge, and the stench was suddenly worse. Davey didn't even seem to notice it. He