“That time is already upon us,” the Master stated, rising to his feet. “Many nights now, my gaze has been turned to the stars. The constellations Heroi and Retsu are aligning for the first time in two and a half millennia. Prophecies connote these coming years as the last of mankind. This is the opportunity I have been waiting for. I must not fail!”
His eyes glowed with the passion his words expressed, and murmurs of agreement echoed through the room.
“Our toils have been rewarding and our preparation has been long,” the Master went on. “Yet we must not deceive ourselves into thinking that our position is secure.”
The murmurs fell to silence. The Master had never spoken so freely of such things before. The most this council had ever discussed were the brief updates concerning the progress of each respective country and its assets. There was the occasional new order from The Master, but such a thing was rare, and was always followed by a long, tedious discussion concerning the politics of the task, and thus was never interesting.
“It has been predicted that there is one who has the potential to stand in my way; one who may have the power to end my supreme rule before it has begun.”
“My lord, who could possess the power to rival you?” Valamette asked, bewildered.
The Master lifted his gaze to glare at Valamette from beneath the shadow of his hood. “You of all people should know.”
Understanding dawned on Valamette. He nodded slowly. Bellator glimpsed the other figures, looking to find a shred of understanding among them. But they too turned to look at Valamette, hoping to glean what they could from his bearing.
“The boy, my lord?” he asked.
“Yes,” the Master replied. “The boy.”
Bellator was intrigued. When had a boy ever entered their conversation?
“But my lord, how could he be a problem? Didn’t we do away with him as an infant? How is it possible that he still draws breath?”
“Does it matter how?” the Master snapped. “What matters is that he lives and that he will pose a threat if we aren’t careful to hone his abilities to our favour.”
“I can do it.” Valamette took a breath. “I can kill him, if you wish it. I will not fail you.”
“No!” The Master’s fist slammed on the altar. “If I wanted him dead, I would have let him die! I wouldn’t have kept him safe all this time.”
Into the Veil of
Shadow – Annalyn’s Story
The tavern was a buzz of excitement
as the midday rush neared its close, but Annalyn’s thoughts were elsewhere as
she stared out the window. Beyond the docks, the waters of the lake shone in
the sunlight, and the forest on the outskirts of town whispered her name. She
stood, transfixed, only coming out of her stupor when the mug of ale on the trey
in her hands toppled over.
“Oy, miss!” a disgruntled customer
exclaimed, leaping up as his table was soaked with the stuff.
“Oh!” The white haired maiden
grabbed a fold of her apron and rushed to dry the mess. “I’m so sorry, Mister
Dowel. I’ll get a replacement for your meal right away. On the house.”
The crankily old man grumbled, but
accepted her offer with a nod. “Best keep your head outta the clouds, little
miss.”
“Yes,” she agreed, taking his food.
“I’ll have the replacement out in a moment.” She walked around behind the
counter and into the scullery.
“What happened out there?” the tall,
pale woman with equally as white hair as Annalyn asked as she scooped beans
onto a plate.
Della
was the most gossiped about woman in town, not only for her unnatural
appearance and the fact that she’d appeared out of nowhere, but also for the
grace and beauty that she carried herself with. A lot of people said she was
the only thing that held the town together sometimes, for her motherly nature
extended beyond her own family. If someone was in need, she’d be there, and
never once did she expect anything else in return. She was the kindest, most
sensitive woman in town, and despite the townspeople knowing nothing about her
or where she came from, they loved her nonetheless.
“I got carried off again,” her thirteen-year-old
daughter replied, dumping the ale soaked food into the slop bucket. “It is so lovely
outside today. I wish I was out in the forest instead of stuck in here.”
Her mother laughed, her silver eyes
twinkling. “Is that so?”
“It’s so hot and stuffy.” Annalyn
tugged at the collar of her dress.
“I’ll tell you what,” her mother
said, moving a strand of her daughter’s sweaty hair behind her ear. “Why don’t
you finish cleaning up the mess, and then you can go out and pick blackberries
this afternoon? Does that sound like a good exchange?”
Annalyn’s lightly freckled face lit
up. “Yes! Thank you, mother!”
Della laughed, and handed her a
plate of food. “Alright. You bring this to poor Mister Dowel, and then you can
run along.”
“Yes ma’am!”
Annalyn
took the plate and hurried out into the tavern. Handing the plate to a now
appeased Mister Dowel, she headed for the nearest exit. She undid her apron as
she pushed open the door, and pulled it over her head, leaving it hanging on
the railing outside of the tavern. She hovered about long enough to retrieve a
basket from the stables, and then hurried up the road and out of town. The
breeze caught her as she neared the top of the ridge that surrounded the town,
and the sweet scent of the forest filled her lungs.
She entered, swinging her basket care-freely,
and searched the underbrush for the juicy clusters of berries. Hours
passed as she hummed happily to herself in the peace and quiet of the forest,
listening to the birds chirping in the treetops as she wandered further and
further north. Annalyn was a smart girl, and kept track of where she was going
as her basket was quickly filled with berries. She had a set destination in
mind; a small glade with a little brook running through it, which was the home
of her childish fantasies of fairyland, where she reigned as queen. Her pace
quickened as she heard the soft bubbling of the brook, which soon swept into
view. She set down the basket of blackberries beside a tree and went to the
water’s edge, washing the berry stains from her fingers in the cool flow.
All at once, a shadow fell over the
water, and she glanced up. Across the brook from where she knelt stood a
figure, wrapped in a dark cloak and peering at her from under a deep hood. She
froze, looking right back at him. The two stared at one another, him with his
dark eyes, and her growing both frightened and curious.
“Hello,” she greeted at last, her
voice hesitant. “Are you lost?”
He shook his head once.
“Forgive me, but do you live around
here? Is this your brook?”
A bit of a smile turned the corner
of his mouth. “No, child,” he said, his voice quiet. “I am simply passing
through.”
“I live in an inn,” she said. “I can
show you where if you are looking for somewhere to stay.”
“That would not be wise,” he
replied. There was a slight breeze, which blew aside the hood of his cloak,
revealing a scarred, wrinkled face and long, white hair. “I am on my way to my
home.”
“Oh.” Most of her fear had vanished by
now. “Where do you live?”
“A castle, far from here. To the
north.”
“The north?” she echoed. “There’s
nothing north of here. Nothing but wilderness.”
“You think not?” He smiled. “I see I
have succeeded in hiding my castle quite well, then.”
Annalyn returned his smile, but then
grew suspicious. “Why were you watching me?”
He hesitated. “You remind me of
someone. Someone I knew a long time ago.”
“Oh.” This surprised her. “Did she
have hair like me?”
All feeling left his face. “She
did.” His eyes fell to the necklace that hung around Annalyn’s throat. “Where
did you get that?”
She reached up to touch the pendant.
“My mother gave it to me.”
“Is that so?” He vanished suddenly,
appearing right beside her. Bending to one knee, he took the pendant carefully between
his long fingers. Kneeling down, he was as tall as she was. “… how lovely.”
Annalyn
stared at him, surprised and even more curious. “How did you do that?”
He
looked at her, and she noticed that his pupils were dark red. “Magic,” he said.
Her
eyes widened. “You’re a sorcerer?”
“Are you afraid?” he countered, letting
go of the necklace.
She hesitated. “Should I be?”
The man rose to his feet, observing her.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he seemed to decide. “I will take you to see my
home.”
Annalyn hesitated. She’d always
wanted to see a castle. But… her mother and father would worry. “No thank you,”
she said politely. “I need to get home. But it was nice meeting you.”
He watched, looking a little
disappointed, as she turned to leave. He raised his hand, his fingers moving in
a ripple, and a black veil of mist stretched in the girl’s path. Annalyn
gasped, backing away from it. But before she could speak, it had swallowed both
her and the sorcerer whole.
The
shadows cleared moments later, and she stood in the midst of a large, empty
scullery. Everything around her was dark and gloomy, and the air smelled of
sulphur instead of pine.
“What have you done?” she cried, frantically
turning in a circle. “Where have you taken me?”
“To my home,” he responded, turning
his back on her. “You are my servant now. Do as I tell you, and I will return
you to your family in time. Disobey me, and you will never see them again.”
Annalyn couldn’t breathe. She
clutched her hands to her chest to keep them from shaking. “No. P-please...
sir…” She couldn’t go on.
He glanced back at her, his eyes now
glowing in the darkness. For a moment, his stone heart softened as he saw the
likeness of the girl he’d once known. But it hardened up again when he
remembered the fate he’d brought upon her. “You should have been afraid of me.”
Then he turned and walked out,
leaving her alone. Annalyn’s breathing grew louder as she tried to stop the
sobs from coming, but it was no use. Tears streamed down her cheeks and her
knees gave out. She stumbled, catching herself against a table, and held onto
it, her body trembling.
A loud clatter came from behind her,
and she turned with a cry of alarm. A boy peered at her from the scullery’s
garbage chute.
“Who’re you?” he asked, climbing
out. He was filthy, and smelled of rotting matter. “Ain’t never seen you
before.”
She sniffed, trying to wipe away her
tears. “… A-Annalyn.”
“You must be new,” the boy said with
a crooked grin, brushing rotten onion peels out of his curly orange hair. He
extended a hand. “The name’s Uri.”
Annalyn looked at his hand, not
moving to take it.
“You’ll get used to it here. Really,
it ain’t that bad so long as you remember four things. One, you ain’t never
gonna see the sun, so get used to it. Two, yes, the ezixs always smell like
that. And three, stay clear of Bellator. She’s a nasty one.”
She frowned. “What’s number four?”
“Four?” Uri’s smile faded. “You’re
gonna be stayin’ a while.”
