Chapter 21: Veracity
Prequel to The Chimera Cycle
Table of Contents
July 1644
In the shadow of the ordered gardens spreading yews, out of the summer sun, Jack pulled his hat close. “Lady Renwick?”
“Yes, Jack.” She glanced up from her book. As serene as always.
“Equites Nocturni, who are they?”
Thomas, who rested nearby, looked on interested.
“It is Latin. You will learn the old languages and the new, in due course.”
“Milady, and in English?”
Lady Renwick gazed across the garden where his brothers in wide-brimmed hats raced from shadows into the sun and back again. They copied what they heard and saw—voices, gestures, routines—and pushed until imitation turned rough. Edmund tumbled Walter after him, as Marcus enforced order. Samuel, now the biggest by an inch, checked Antony; he did not fall, but stumbled and, like a cat, stood upright.
She faced Jack. “Night Knight. They are the justices of the Dominion. Each is a Revered Lord.”
Later, Jack and Thomas sat alone.
The other boy looked furtive. “Equites Nocturni, how, where, why?”
Jack understood and explained. “Reckless boys are killed,” he whispered. A secret shared. What he knew. “The Shuck is real.”
Thomas pressed his finger to his lips. His eyes—earnest and pleading. “Say no more.”
September 1644
Summer folded into autumn, and the days shortened. William and Robert roamed farther from the walls, confidence rising with the dark. The other boys explored too; Antony always ran alone. The others sometimes in groups, with Marcus leading and enforcing the bounds set by the rules.
Jack watched more than he joined. At the end of September, William, and Robert found themselves caught by Captain Renwick, slipping in through an unlocked window.
“If this continues.” Doctor Adler roared. “I will see your blood ration cut! All of you!”
So the night roaming stopped, but the desire did not.
Close to Blackthorn, livestock died. Renwick’s men spoke in half-sentences, as if aware that keen ears listened. “Royalist riders spotted, fleeing some skirmish up north.” Giles Pannell, guardsman, reported. The captain ordered the gates barred earlier and opened them later.
Renwick spat on the ground. “Men and beasts snapping at our doors, Giles. Which will prove worse, I wonder?”
October 1644
Edmund and Walter, as fast friends, argued even faster. Falling out, fighting, and then laughing again.
On Monday, the 23rd of October, they fought. “The Shuck is not real,” Edmund said. “It’s tall tales.”
Jack heard the words of the housekeeper, Prudence Albright. Edmund did not mimic her voice, but her argument. “The last few years have been poor, colder, so more livestock falls to wild dogs or other such things. That old fool Tolbody—”
“Who?” Walter demanded. “Is that you?” he chanted, “Tolbody,” over and over. He captured Edmund’s tone, then Albright’s, switching between them.
Edmund answered with a sweeping blow, which skimmed Walter’s chest as he danced backward. Antony shoved him hard in the back, tipping Walter into Edmund and putting both onto the floor.
“Idiots,” Antony said, an insult delivered without ire. That coldness made the taunt sharper. “The real fools are you two.” He snapped around to William and Robert. “Clumsy, noisy oafs, banging about, thinking you’re hunting the Shuck.” Antony’s lips curled, thin and cold. “All you do is get caught.”
Marcus stepped up. “You tell us. If you know so much, is there a Shuck? If so, where?”
Antony shrugged. “I’ve been everywhere, no one sees me, and I have never seen it. If the Shuck exists—it is either like Jack skulking, or it’s another Thomas—faint of heart.”
Jack’s anger bit. For himself and for Thomas, who always got the worst of Antony’s taunts.
Thomas did something unexpected. He rose from the shadows, putting down his slate and chalk, his drawing half-finished. “Better hare-hearted than a black one. We’ve all seen the dead birds, the animals. Maybe the only bad dog is you?”
Antony leapt at Thomas, his hands clawing, raking Thomas’ cheek. Samuel grabbed him back. Antony’s fist whirled around to strike him, but Marcus took hold of it. Antony might be the quickest chimera, but in strength, both Marcus and Samuel bested him every time.
Thomas bled and healed. He licked his hand and cleaned his face.
“Let me go!” Antony growled, voicing emotion at last.
Samuel pulled Antony closer. “If Adler catches fighting again, he will cut our rations.”
Marcus held firm. “He’s right.”
Antony resisted. “You’re all craven fools. Frightened of a silly tale.”
Jack spoke up, furious now. “It isn’t a story. The Shuck is real, and it leaves only bones, with deep marks.”
Edmund rose from the floor. “How do you know?”
Jack stiffened. “Doctor Adler and the Justice of the Peace Verney said so.”
After Jack recounted their words, Marcus’s face became excited—eyes bright. Robert and William talked over each other. “The Black Shuck is real!”
“Why is it a secret?” Robert asked.
Everyone looked at Jack. “They don’t want the Wild World to know there are creatures, like us, or the masters. I think if Verney thought Shuck killed the man—”
“From Helmsgate farm?” Walter gestured in the general direction.
“No.” Edmund shook his head. “Further than that.
“What, Jack?” Samuel shrugged, extending his broad palms outwards. “What would they do?”
Equites Nocturni—Jack’s gnawing doubt bit—have I revealed too much? “The lords would come and hunt it.”
Marcus folded his arms. “To protect us?”
Antony grunted. “To protect themselves.”
Robert frowned. “So, Captain Renwick and the guard have failed.”
“Thus far,” Samuel said.
Jack felt the moment slip past him. He thought the truth would set them free.
Before Marcus could lead, Antony moved. Words collided. The oldest boy, with unrestrained glee, hammered his fist on the schoolroom table, drowning out the rest. “Then we hunt it.” He stood tall. “We prove ourselves to Lord de Vries and to Adler. We can do what the humans can’t.”
Thomas looked at Jack with wide eyes and whispered, “What have you done?”
Chapter 22: Hunting