safety wormed its way beneath her skin like a deep cold.
Suddenly there was a disturbance in her ka. Rydel turned, seeing it in the darkness before she could. The air distorted with the flutter of wings. Come, she beckoned in her thoughts.
From out of the darkness, a hawk appeared, landing upon her pack. It was a beautiful creature, even in the dim light, large with golden plumage, slightly ruffled by its sudden change in course. It eyed her regally.
“Sa mira, kin ha elvia su nivia,” she whispered, enjoying the feel of her language as it flowed across her tongue. At her words, the bird leapt into the air and landed upon her arm. Its sharp claws gripped her harmlessly. She smiled and the hawk tilted its head, listening attentively. She touched the bird’s side calmly, closing her eyes. Save the boy, she implored. Watch over him. But aloud she voiced, “Tervias su unvas. Remlar uvar hil.”
The bird twisted its head, as if in acknowledgement and then flew off.
“At least now we will have eyes on him,” she answered, watching the creature fly away until it was obscured by the dark night. Attuned to the spark, the creature knew her words. But it was still the bird’s choice to follow her. The bird had answered simply. It would obey her command unto death.
“Get some rest, my queen,” Rydel said.
“I will take first watch,” she replied, eyeing the nearby trees again. When Rydel looked ready to argue, she raised a brow. “That’s an order.” The elf grumbled, and settled beneath his dark green blanket, asleep in moments, sleeping dreamlessly as full elves did. The notion of dreams gave Karil a shiver. Her watch was not wholly altruistic. She feared her dreams and would do anything to stave them off for as long as she could. She huddled closer to the red flames that warded off the cold night. With thoughts of the boy and her uncle, she looked south, praying to see Lakewood soon.
The Gathering Dark
T HICK PLUMES OF SMOKE OBSCURED THE red moon. The screams had finally settled.
Vera had traveled quickly to make it here. The message had been clear. Come or die. And she valued her life, greatly. It was perhaps the only thing she did value anymore.
She paused outside the inn, feeling the warm glow of the common room on her back. She looked down. The once-thick snow was now trampled flat by thousands of cloven hooves and stained crimson. Her fur-lined coat was covered in blood as well. She threw the coat to the snow, embracing the cold, and stepped to the side, out of the light.
Vergs and saeroks stalked past, joining the swelling army. Her cool glare panned up, and even she had trouble keeping her features smooth.
Wreathed in shadows, the nine sat on deathless steeds. Beasts that made Drefah look tame. Those dead eyes were rimmed in red that writhed with maggots, and hides as black as a moonless night. The beasts appeared as if crudely put together, patches of flesh missing from the animal’s torsos, exposing their white ribs. Steam flared from their nostrils and their hooves beat against the ground with power.
The Kage.
“Is it done?” the leader asked, the closest of the nine. His voice was like a claw raking inside her ear.
“Yes,” Vera answered. “All the inhabitants of Tir Re’ Dol are dead, except for the one. I gave him the message and he will relay it. You can be sure of that,” she couldn’t help but smile. With the fear she had inspired in him, their pawn would ride until his eyes burned and the horse fell beneath him. “We left him a beast to ride, but it will take him some time until he alerts the rest of Daerval.”
“Good,” said the nightmare. “Then it is finished.”
“However,” she paused. The nightmare turned again, and she almost regretted her words. Still her driving need for knowledge overrode her better judgment. Her voice gained strength. “What’s the point? Why warn the prey before the kill?”
A dark hood hid its features, but she felt as if the nightmare was
Suddenly there was a disturbance in her ka. Rydel turned, seeing it in the darkness before she could. The air distorted with the flutter of wings. Come, she beckoned in her thoughts.
From out of the darkness, a hawk appeared, landing upon her pack. It was a beautiful creature, even in the dim light, large with golden plumage, slightly ruffled by its sudden change in course. It eyed her regally.
“Sa mira, kin ha elvia su nivia,” she whispered, enjoying the feel of her language as it flowed across her tongue. At her words, the bird leapt into the air and landed upon her arm. Its sharp claws gripped her harmlessly. She smiled and the hawk tilted its head, listening attentively. She touched the bird’s side calmly, closing her eyes. Save the boy, she implored. Watch over him. But aloud she voiced, “Tervias su unvas. Remlar uvar hil.”
The bird twisted its head, as if in acknowledgement and then flew off.
“At least now we will have eyes on him,” she answered, watching the creature fly away until it was obscured by the dark night. Attuned to the spark, the creature knew her words. But it was still the bird’s choice to follow her. The bird had answered simply. It would obey her command unto death.
“Get some rest, my queen,” Rydel said.
“I will take first watch,” she replied, eyeing the nearby trees again. When Rydel looked ready to argue, she raised a brow. “That’s an order.” The elf grumbled, and settled beneath his dark green blanket, asleep in moments, sleeping dreamlessly as full elves did. The notion of dreams gave Karil a shiver. Her watch was not wholly altruistic. She feared her dreams and would do anything to stave them off for as long as she could. She huddled closer to the red flames that warded off the cold night. With thoughts of the boy and her uncle, she looked south, praying to see Lakewood soon.
The Gathering Dark
T HICK PLUMES OF SMOKE OBSCURED THE red moon. The screams had finally settled.
Vera had traveled quickly to make it here. The message had been clear. Come or die. And she valued her life, greatly. It was perhaps the only thing she did value anymore.
She paused outside the inn, feeling the warm glow of the common room on her back. She looked down. The once-thick snow was now trampled flat by thousands of cloven hooves and stained crimson. Her fur-lined coat was covered in blood as well. She threw the coat to the snow, embracing the cold, and stepped to the side, out of the light.
Vergs and saeroks stalked past, joining the swelling army. Her cool glare panned up, and even she had trouble keeping her features smooth.
Wreathed in shadows, the nine sat on deathless steeds. Beasts that made Drefah look tame. Those dead eyes were rimmed in red that writhed with maggots, and hides as black as a moonless night. The beasts appeared as if crudely put together, patches of flesh missing from the animal’s torsos, exposing their white ribs. Steam flared from their nostrils and their hooves beat against the ground with power.
The Kage.
“Is it done?” the leader asked, the closest of the nine. His voice was like a claw raking inside her ear.
“Yes,” Vera answered. “All the inhabitants of Tir Re’ Dol are dead, except for the one. I gave him the message and he will relay it. You can be sure of that,” she couldn’t help but smile. With the fear she had inspired in him, their pawn would ride until his eyes burned and the horse fell beneath him. “We left him a beast to ride, but it will take him some time until he alerts the rest of Daerval.”
“Good,” said the nightmare. “Then it is finished.”
“However,” she paused. The nightmare turned again, and she almost regretted her words. Still her driving need for knowledge overrode her better judgment. Her voice gained strength. “What’s the point? Why warn the prey before the kill?”
A dark hood hid its features, but she felt as if the nightmare was
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