Son of the Shadows by Juliet Marillier

I felt my own death at my back. But it was not to be. Instead, I
    was pinned there, watching, listening, as my men died before and behind me, one after the other, and their horses crashed in panic off the path and were swallowed by the trembling waters of the marsh. My own mount stood steadfast, and they left him alone. I was to be allowed to return home. I was to
    witness, helpless, the slaughter of my own men and then to be set free."
    "But why?" breathed Sean.
    "I am not sure I understand that even now," said Eamonn bleakly. "The man who held me had a grip around me, and his knife against my throat, and enough skill in his hands to stop me from struggling long.
    In this kind of combat he possessed an ability such as I could hardly imagine. I could not hope to break free. My heart was sick as I waited for the last of my men to die. And—and I almost thought the rumors true, as the shifting mist showed me a glimpse, here and there, of those who took their lives with cool detachment."
    "Were they indeed half man, half beast?" asked Aisling hesitantly, afraid, no doubt, of sounding foolish.
    But nobody was laughing.
    "They were men," Eamonn said, in a tone that suggested there might be some doubt. "But they wore helmets, or masks, that belied the fact. You might think you saw an eagle or a stag; some, indeed, had markings on the skin, perhaps above the brow or on the chin, to suggest the plumage or the features of a wild creature. Some had helms adorned with feathers, some cloaks of wolf pelt. Their eyes . . . their eyes were so calm, as calm as death. Like—like beings with no human feelings."
    "What about the man who held your" asked Liam. "What manner of man was he?"
    "Evasive. He made sure I did not see his face. But I heard his voice and will not forget it; and as he released me at last, I saw his arm revealed when he drew his knife away from my neck. An arm patterned from shoulder to fingertips with a delicate web of feather and spiral and interlocking links, an intricate and permanent design etched deep into the skin. By that I will know this killer again when I
    avenge the murders of my good men."
    "What did he say to you?" I was unable to keep silent, for it was a fascinating tale, though terrible.
    "His voice was—very even, very calm. In that place of death, he spoke as if discussing a business transaction. It was only for an instant. He released his grip; and as I drew breath and turned to pursue him, he vanished into the encircling mist, and he said, Learn from this, Eamonn. Learn well. I am not done with you yet
    . And I was alone. Alone save for my trembling horse and the broken bodies of my men."
    "You still believe these are not—are not some creatures of the Other-world?" asked my mother.
    There was an unsteadiness in her voice that worried me.
    "They are men." Eamonn's tone was controlled, but I could hear the anger in it, "men of awesome skills in the field, skills that would be the envy of any warrior. For all the strength of Page 31

    our forces, we neither killed nor captured a single one of them. But they are no immortals, this I discovered when I heard from their leader again."
    "Did not you say you had never seen this man?" asked Liam.
    "Seen, no. He sent me a message. It was some time later, and we had encountered no more of them.
    Your reinforcements had arrived, and together we'd flushed out die rest of my neighbor's meager force and sent them packing. Our dead were honored and laid to rest. Their widows were provided for. The raids ceased. The threat appeared to be over, though folk still shuddered with dread at the memory of what had happened. They had given this murderer a name. They dubbed him "the Painted Man." I
    thought his band gone from my territory. Then the message was brought to me."
    "What message?"
    "No simple words of challenge; nothing so honest for this miscreant. The message was . . .
    perhaps I
    should not relate this here. It is not fit for ladies' ears."
    "You'd better tell