**********
The Palace, City of Yeledor
**********
Birds sang to welcome the new dawn. Prince Lareon, Captain Aldon, Connor Quickfingers, Lord Joshua Sand, and Girn the barbarian sat in the Prince's private audience chamber awaiting word of Rebus and Sillavana. The temple guards had carried the High Priestess of Zoaris to a guest chamber and stood guard while healers attended her. They had been with her all night, while members of Rebus's personal staff tended him in his quarters. Everyone in the room had been rendered silent by the horrors of the night, and all were reluctant to speak of it.
Girn stirred first from the numbness, leaving his chair to move to a window, gazing across the city of Yeledor sprawled below. Lareon's eyes followed the barbarian's movement, but his mind was wrestling with a dozen unanswerable questions. Who or what was seeking his death? And why? And most of all, was there any risk to his future bride? Although the marriage had been arranged for political gain, he had come to love his fiancée. A dozen times over the last few hours Lareon had considered postponing the wedding.
Girn left the window and sat down on a couch next to the half-dozing Connor. The young thief opened his eyes, stretched, and yawned. He wiped the sleep from his face and said, "Girn, what I would've given to have your courage and quick reaction when the High Priestess made her unusual request."
At this, Captain Aldon laughed and the tension in the room lessened. Even Prince Lareon ventured a half-smile as Connor continued. "If only I wasn't frozen while that thing chewed up the palace guards one by one. Sillavana was so beautiful..."
Lareon said, "Even if you were given the chance, I don't think it would've worked as well as with Girn. He's quite our superior in that aspect." Although talking jokingly, his tone revealed approval of Girn's quick thinking and aiding Sillavana destroy the undead monstrosity.
"Agree to disagree," Lord Sand mumbled to the side. Nobody seemed to have picked it up. He rubbed his bandaged arm, thinking to himself. The mountainous southerner knew he was packing quite some heat and was certain that an opportunity to prove himself to be at least Girn's equal would come sooner or later.
A guard came into the room and said, "Highness, the magister is recovered and requests for you to come to his quarters." Lareon nearly leapt from his chair and strode out of the chamber with the others close behind.
**********
Hawk Tower, The Palace, City of Yeledor
**********
The magister's quarters lay on the top floor of Hawk Tower. As Lareon approached the door, he could see it was open and glimpsed movement inside. He entered and was struck by the austere look of the room, nearly a cell without personal property or decoration.
Magister Rebus looked haggard and weak but alert. He lay propped up on cushions. He recognised the look on Lareon's face and explained, "Never took the time to decorate. A good bed was the only essential thing I needed."
The royal chirurgeon stood beside the bed. He bowed and said to the Prince, "There is nothing physically wrong, Highness, save he is exhausted. Please be brief."
Lareon nodded as the chirurgeon withdrew. As he left, the man motioned for Captain Aldon and the others to remain outside. Lareon came to Rebus's side. "How do you fare?"
"I will live, Highness," he answered weakly.
Lareon cast a quick glance at the door and saw the alarmed expression on his companions' faces. Softly he said, "You will do more than just live, Rebus. You'll be back to your old self soon, stronger and wiser. You're to advise my father for many years still. And hopefully myself after that." The magister smiled at the kind words.
"I must share a confidence with you," Rebus whispered. "And I'd like Girn to hear it too." When the barbarian was stood next to the Prince, he continued, "I must now tell you something not many know. I judge it imperative that you two do." Lareon and Girn leaned forward to better hear the tired magister's faint words. Rebus said, "My discomfort at the High Priestess's rites last night shouldn't be a surprise to anyone. Although my affiliations are towards the arcane and not the divine, I know well the nature and manifestations of the gods and goddesses. I've actually spend some time studying them at the start of my magical journey. What appeared in that room last night was nothing I have ever known."
Lareon seemed lost. "What do you mean?"
"As I battled against the force that drove the dark elf, I could sense something of its nature. It is something alien, dark and dread, something without mercy. It rages and it seeks to dominate or destroy. Even those gods called dark and evil are not near what I felt. This thing is a blotting out of the light of hope. It is despair incarnate."
Girn scratched his jawline. "If it is not a god or goddess, then who or what is so powerful it can break through your precautions and penetrate mistress Sillavana's ritual?"
Rebus sighed. "A question I've been pondering ever since I'm laying here. And I've come to understand something more. It left, not because we had bested it, but because the High Priestess had robbed it of the servant it inhabited. It had no physical means of continuing the attack. We only defeated its agent. But it revealed something of itself in that moment. When High Priestess Sillavana blasted it with her divine powers, it exuded contempt in its purest form. I believe the entity is not ready yet to challenge Zoaris or any other gods, but it is certainly biding its time."
Prince Lareon shook his head in disbelief. His face revealed his alarm. "An alien entity that feels contempt for the gods!"
"Highness, it is a force that deems itself supreme. It hates and it rages and it means to destroy any who oppose it." The magister stared deeply into both men's eyes. "Highness and Girn, you must seek greater wisdom than mine. For one other thing did I sense. This foe. This all-encompassing darkness. It is growing in strength and gathers his followers."
Lareon said, "Rest, Rebus. Leave this to us and regain your strength." He nodded to the barbarian and left the room. As he passed the royal chirurgeon, he said, "Keep an eye on him, he must recover quickly." It was more a plea than a command.
**********
The Palace, City of Yeledor
**********
Hours went by as the company of the Prince awaited word of the High Priestess of Zoaris. Girn sat alone, while Connor had fallen asleep again on a low settee. Captain Aldon was off seeing to the deployment of his guards. Lord Sand was having the bandages on his arms replaced. And Prince Lareon was preoccupied with the mysteries of the previous night.
Lareon paused for a moment in his deliberation to study Connor. The young thief looked still a child as he breathed slowly. He had laughed off the severity of last night's events, but once things had finally quieted down, he had fallen asleep almost instantly. Lareon shook his head slightly. Connor Quickfingers was a common criminal, a parasite upon society who had not worked an honest day's labour in his short life. Not much past eighteen or nineteen, he was a pickpocket and a cheat, but while he might be many things, he had come to Lareon when it mattered and had become something like a friend in a ridiculously short time.
A messenger arrived with a message from the High Priestess, but instead of requesting Lareon's presence, it asked for Girn and pressed for haste. The Prince motioned Girn and the barbarian rose quietly, so as not to awaken Connor, and followed the messenger to where High Priestess Sillavana was being cared for by her healers. Lareon's guards waited outside the suite and temple guards stood inside the door, a concession Lareon had granted when requested by the priest who had come from the temple.
The priest greeted Girn coolly, as if the barbarian somehow bore the responsibility for his mistress's injury. He led Girn into the sleeping chamber, where another priest attended the leader of their temple. Girn was shocked by the appearance of Sillavana. She lay propped up by a pile of bolsters, her pale blond hair framing a face drained of colour, as if the icy blue of winter had suffused her features. She looked as if she had aged twenty years in a day. But as she turned her gaze upon Girn, there was still an aura of power about her.
"Have you recovered, lady?" Girn's tone showed concern as he inclined his head towards her.
"My mistress has work for me yet, barbarian. I will not join her for some time."
"I am pleased to hear that news. I have come as you asked although we were confused why you hadn't requested the Prince's presence."
The woman drew herself upright, until she sat with her back against the pillows. The thin white veil that covered her body accentuated her assets. The darkened circles of her nipples were like shadow underneath. Without conscious thought she brushed back her nearly white hair, and Girn could see that despite his earlier observations, High Priestess Sillavana was still a youthful woman of unusual beauty. In a voice still strained, the priestess said, "Girn the barbarian, there is peril to our Kingdom, and more. In the realm of the Mistress of Death only one stands higher than I; she is our goddess. Other than herself, none should challenge my power in the domain of death. But now there comes something that challenges the very goddess herself. Something that while still weak, while still learning its powers, can overcome my control over one in my mistress's realm. Have you any understanding of the importance of my words?"
Girn nodded. He did understand. Sillavana's words were different yet the same as what magister Rebus had told Lareon and him.
