《Betrayal》 Chapter 1: Son of Barak, Ive Found you They knew I fled and were on my trail¡ª- I sensed it. The deceitful council were in ceaseless pursuit, I thought, halted only by the death of age, but when their counterparts inherited the task, I¡¯d outrun them too. Their pervasive influence could locate my whereabouts and end my existence almost anywhere on the continent, and I had to make them work hard for it. Nothing about it made sense however; if they wanted me dead, they should have killed me at birth like the others. Unironically, I was thankful. They gave me an excuse to flee and be free; the kingdom did not want the ¡°Prince of Impotence¡±, anyways. How embarrassing it would be, however, if I died in that night, never to reap the benefits of my newfound opportunity, and provided what they (and my father perhaps) desired. I traveled a great distance from the gothic Kingdom of Sundur; a powerful nation perched upon a perilous cliff, beaten by the Ancient Sea that enclosed the continent; in proximity a collective of small towns, cities, and farms, situated upon grassy knolls, twisting dirt and paved passages, and earth toned plots, all of which governed by my father and his council. Close Southeast one of the largest growths in the world flared out and covered most of the Northern region; Saralene Forest was a natural border, like the ocean opposite, that secluded my home from neighboring and far away Kingdoms. The dense growth held massive blueish green pine trees so close together you couldn¡¯t fit a calf through sideways. With roots the size of my arm intertwined with thickets that could hide an army, the floor was near impassable. It felt abandoned, quiet, haunted. Not even the animals settled there. It was rarely traveled, except by the most protected, or quick. I had already trodden the desecrated forest for over a hundred miles, and which meant I was neither. Luck spawned a dirt path to tread and I followed it blindly. Poor Hadie panted and whined as the grey sky dimmed. I peered up through the trees¡ª a vague strand of light undulated behind a curtain of clouds like an innocuous tendril. We were almost there, but Hadie became clumsy and slowed significantly. He tripped and caught hold and tripped again, my chance of survival fading with every misstep and jerk. His head low, he came to a near halt and I begged him to continue. Hadie tilted and awkwardly I slipped from the saddle, landing tailbone first on thick roots that drew a shout. The guard of my Father¡¯s sword dug into my ribs. Through pained eyes I watched as he shook and keeled over a deep thump. With desperate breathing he flailed trying to stand back on his hooves. After a minute, he settled on his pumping sides, breath shallow but rapid. A shriek echoed in the forest. I searched frantically past looming trunks at figures that escaped my vision. I petted him while I darted every direction. Then another screech rang out behind me, distant but nearing. With no more time to spare I unsheathed the sword, then took a final view of the valiant steed, doomed to death by my hand, his black coat glistening from sweat. I lined the sword with the bottom of his jaw, peered into his eyes, and a brief sense of sorrow overshadowed my urge to flee. Eyes closed, a lift, a heavy down swing, and I hacked into his neck once. Blood sprayed onto my black leather jacket and face. I stole a look at the eviscerated horse and hacked once more to remove its head. He was still. ¡°Forgive me. I won¡¯t let them steal your soul.¡± My hands shook as I removed two saddle bags and they struck the forest floor. I rifled through them and unloaded most of the contents in to my jacket pockets: a sack of precious jewels and jewelry, a silver Sol dial, my comm pad, a pack of colorful flint wheel lighters, an off-brand pouch of salted mixed nuts, and a golden seal of Sundur, used primarily for the stamping of royal documents. I stole a service light pistol from the King¡¯s Barracks and that I tucked behind my waistband. Hooked to a d-ring was a portable oil lantern that wouldn¡¯t unlatch immediately, but when it did, I rushed southeast down the path in hopes of a reprieve. Darkness came soon, and I had yet to see as much as a silhouette of a structure. When I found the rest point it was nearly dark. I waved my hand over the lantern. Its blinding light illuminated decaying pines and dying brush within ten meters, elicited hissing and cursing close behind that sent pins piercing up my spine. A potent smell of rot stung my nostrils and caused an involuntary wince. There was a clearing in the forest and a much wider dirt path; along it a grey two-story wooden edifice. I shouldered its door without budge. I set the lantern on the porch and turned back to the night. There were more Demons out now, and I could see their shadows against the stars and moonlight, along the edges of light. My mother, or a woman who named herself my mother, called for succor through the bedlam. I slammed a closed fist into the door. ¡°Help! Is anyone there? Please, I¡¯m human!¡± The Demons mocked me, sounded just like me. They obfuscated my plea and turned me into one of them; from behind and above my own voice emanated things I never said in ways I would. ¡°I know someone is there, you can save me before the pitch!¡± I heard nothing. ¡°Damn it, if you don¡¯t open the door right now you¡¯ll be persecuted!¡± It was no longer night, no more stars or moon. The black had taken the continent as its own and the perimeter of light that was my haven shrunk. When the last vestige of the Veil departed, the tip of its golden appendage waving goodbye in space, realms collided and through the rupture evil prospered, flourished. No longer could the true denizens of the world wander safely, and the war against humanity proceeded again. My back was against a wall, sword readied at hidden fiends, and chances of survival at the minimum. If the lantern lasted through the night, I would live, I thought, but these Demons were intelligent; they could tip it somehow or wound me through a shadowed crack my light couldn¡¯t reach or ensure I go mad. Snarling and lamenting and hollering flanked me. Four¡ª no, five bloodshot pairs of eyes reflected my light like stalking wolves. Madness begun to set, a sharp ache jolted my brain and I ducked shouting to acute pain. ¡°Son of Barak, I¡¯ve found you.¡± Echoed in my mind. The porch burst into view, illuminated by flood lights fastened along the edge of the roof. The handful of Demons were caught off guard by the sudden flash; I witnessed their horned pale bodies green or burgundy and fanged contorted muzzles retreat like roaches. The door cracked and I shoved it open, squeezing inside and nearly falling over. Two men deadbolted, barricaded, and sealed it shut behind me. I faced them with my sword out front. One man wore a white apron and black slacks; tall, bald, and muscular. He had his hands up and slowly shuffled to my left. The other looked older and was about the same height, around six feet, with short hair a mixture of browns and greys. He wore a white t-shirt, blue jeans and brown working boots; he approached me from the front carefully. I looked around and there were several others sitting round tables spectating as my back hit the edge of a bar. The older one tried to talk me down. ¡°Don¡¯t worry kid, we¡¯re not going to harm you, we just saved you. You can put the sword away.¡± ¡°Then tell your man to stop moving!¡± ¡°John.¡± The bald one nodded and stopped. Behind the door unnatural noises loudened. ¡°What took you so long to open the door?¡± I said. ¡°Listen, we can talk. You¡¯re freaking me out with that sword. Stow it, would ya?¡± ¡°How do I know I can¡ª¡± An arm wrapped under my chin and hauled me backward, lifting me off my feet and bending my spine over the bar. The other two rushed forward, their hands taking mine around the hilt. They pressed on my thumbs and relinquished my weapon. ¡°We got the sword, let him go Roger!¡± the older one said as he gripped at his arms. But he didn¡¯t. I nearly lost consciousness. He squeezed mercilessly and it felt like my face would pop. Frantically, I reached into my waistband and tugged on my light pistol until it released and fired down blindly. He hollered and let go and I plummeted behind the bar on to my shoulders with a grunt, spilling bottles of alcohol. My pistol readied, I kept visual as he limped off to the open end. ¡°That man is plagued!¡± I said while I caught my breath. ¡°He almost killed me!¡± ¡°You fucking shot my foot!¡± He cried as he limped away.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to hurt anyone!¡± ¡°Okay, okay! Just put the gun down!¡± Said the old one. I emerged, the spectators in the room affirmed, and I acquiesced. The air smelled of singed hairs and there was a shallow crescent-shaped burn hole in the floor. On the steps the man carefully removed Roger¡¯s boot while others commented and groaned at the injury. John kept eyes on me. They whispered to each other, Roger groaned. Some turned to me as I exited bar well, clearly wary. It was understandable and pointless assigning blaming; just minutes ago they were secured from external horrors and in comes a terrified stranger. Sitting on a barstool, I set the pistol to safety and laid it carefully on the counter, muzzle pointing behind to the shelves of colorful and clear bottles displayed in a meticulous spectrum. John sat down too, at a table across from me, eyes still trained, but he leaned in the chair next to my sword that laid flat on the table. ¡°You cooked two of his toes, but he gets to keep them.¡± He said as he approached and glanced at the pistol. ¡°My name is Arch. What¡¯s your name kid.¡± Arch said. ¡°Anwar.¡± ¡°Aright Anwar. Can we check you at least?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have any other weapons.¡± I lifted my arms, prepared for a pat down. ¡°Well that¡¯s good news, but I meant the detward.¡± He nodded towards the front door. Engraved into the wood floor and directly above in the ceiling lied a familiar ward. Three interlocking circles filled them, and within three large spaces, three primordial signs. What bordered it was the language of the First Witnesses, done most likely by a high priest, and lethal. I had scrambled over it too quickly. ¡°You aren¡¯t the first to show up late. We won¡¯t put you out. I just want the peace of mind.¡± ¡°That won¡¯t work, but I¡¯ll stand on it.¡± I relaxed. It was a rest point, and within were travelers, I told myself. The tables were high and round, some bearing glasses and plate, and underneath them tall stools. Two restrooms positioned beneath the staircase were open and tiled and I could see as far inside as the corners that turned at a ninety-degree angle. There was a swinging door next to a deep sink in the bar and over the curved opening I could see pots and pans hanging from racks. Fluorescent lights hummed and wires mounted to the ceiling sprawled out and gathered into a metal box situated on the wall where the bar terminated, proving that this edifice ran on an old mode of power. The detection ward should have been enough to calm my nerves; the both cautious and surprised people within too. John was the cook, and Arch, the owner. I didn¡¯t know what Roger was, but his unsettling behavior, although slightly justified, invoked an instinctive wariness. I stood on the ward. ¡°Just wait a minute.¡± Arch said. Knowing nothing would happen, I complied, and nothing did happen. The spotlight was on me, even the outside quieted. Arch shooed me from the ward and stepped in himself. The engravings lit up at about thirty seconds, encapsulating him in a soft cone of opaque light, gradually brightening. He looked at me carefully, and beckoned me to step back on it. I did and nothing changed again. ¡°Is he a possessed or somethin¡¯? An elderly woman, dressed in a navy-blue suit and beige sunhat wrapped by a blue bow, asked from the corner. ¡°Can¡¯t be.¡± Arch said. ¡°You knew this would happen. What¡¯s wrong with you then?¡± ¡°Born that way.¡± ¡°That boy has a familiar name. Looks familiar too¡­¡± The woman said. ¡°I get that a lot. I¡¯m not a fanatic or possessed, just traveled a little too far for my own good. I¡¯m looking to cross the forest into the South. I can trade for a night¡¯s stay and a ride.¡± Arch pressed between his eyes in response. ¡°The Lessers will keep us up all night now. Guess we¡¯ll be on a full watch rotation tonight.¡± John said. ¡°Mhmm.¡± Arch replied. ¡°Oh Roger!¡± A worried woman, pale and dangerously thin, wearing a pink night gown, cried hysterically as she descended the steps. She held the railing tight and limped to his side, holding him like he had been long lost. They whispered to each other, although Roger seemed dismissive. ¡°We¡¯re not going to throw you out Anwar, but I can¡¯t let you sleep here with weapons. Everyone else has to put them up and that includes you.¡± Arch said. I thought for a moment as I looked around. ¡°Fine.¡± John held his hand out and I pointed to the bar, where my pistol lied. He waited. ¡°The sheathe. Kinda need it.¡± John said. ¡°Right.¡± After tentatively unbuckling my father¡¯s sheathe, John thanked me and left to the back. ¡°Where¡¯re you coming from?¡± Arch said. ¡°From the North.¡± ¡°You¡¯re not very talkative are you.¡± There were a few clicks and locks that occurred before John returned and handed me a key inside of a sealed thin plastic case. ¡°Okay, so what room am I in?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t have everyone anxious over a guy that not only shot a guest and brought a team of Lessers to the Inn, but won¡¯t light up the detward. We¡¯ll confine you, just like we do the crazies, and keep an eye for the night.¡± ¡°Confined¡± I said. ¡°I gave up my weapons!¡± ¡°Listen kid, you¡¯ll be safe; it¡¯s a free night¡¯s stay and we¡¯ll get you food, John is a great cook. You can stay up here while we get the basement spruced up with a bed. We¡¯ll take care of your car too if it¡¯s intact after tonight; there¡¯s an underearth garage just up the path. Plus, if you¡¯re not afflicted with anything¡­¡± It was my first time outside of the castle walls without an appointed guard or my father. I felt alone. Although they didn¡¯t seem evil, I was in danger of manipulation and already lost protection. Finding out my bloodline would cause danger to us all, and one familiar eye upon my father¡¯s sword would raise suspicion; they would send me back, I thought, or we were all dead together. The chaotic noise resumed and penetrated the walls, coming to a crescendo. I didn¡¯t realize he was still talking. ¡°Hello? You do have a vehicle, right?¡± ¡°A vehicle?¡± A violent force impaled the Inn and in burst a hail of broken wood that shattered glass and damaged both the Inn and those closest to the stairs. I flinched and fell flat, gazing at gaping hole with mouth agape. Screams rang throughout. Arch hollered through the calamity. People fled frantically as I rose to my feet, the hairs of my skin lifted. About the edge of the breach peaked in an unmoving horned head so black that it appeared juxtaposed, and clamping onto the inside a dozen human, eviscerated hands. It said hello in an unnaturally low and distorted tone while it smoked from the light, its two yellow beady eyes shuddering and fixed upon me. After retrieving my lantern, I shuffled as far outside the wicked intruder reach as possible and slid on slippery hide. A scattering of fragmented wood from the entrance wall, tables, and chairs covered the floor; innards, dark flesh, splats of blood and bits painted the bar. Warmth whirled round from the breach. My heart sank. There was an animal leg lodged into shelving, a head half-eaten against a fallen chair, a quarter of body crushed the center of the bar, and a hoof within view. In a short hallway beside the bar was the basement, and past that was the kitchen. Shuffling frantically to the back I took hold of the handle, shaking it as panic ruled my body. I faced the black hole where monstrous clamor emanated and the darkness spiraled, subtly turning red the longer I stared. A guest crossed the opening of the hallway, his long and muddied hair draped over his face. He was topless and in ripped soiled jeans, head down and mumbling. As if strolling through a park or walking along a beach, the guest passed the gap without a glance, unlocked and opened the front door, and exited. Quickly I fled to the kitchen. The useless swinging door swung once and I secured. There was an unclean butcher knife out by the sink I acquired and knew was impractical but it provided ostensible security. Although well lit, to be safe I waved my lantern on. I sat on the floor where two counters met and shook uncontrollably. The darkness was the master of night, the oppressed light as the shadows in the day. The restless night left no room for recovery and garnered unpleasant experiences. I would drift off for a moment and hear ¡°Hey¡± and awake to the brief sight of a blackened figure absconding. Again I fell asleep and a piece of flesh or a limb landed nearby, shocking me awake for another hour until I couldn¡¯t stay awake any longer. Often I heard footfalls retreat from the hall out to the front, and fear would keep me alert. They toyed and toyed, allowed me to fall asleep but never stay that way. Without the artificial lighting, I would have died. ¡°Wake up.¡± ¡°Not a scratch.¡± John said. I gasped out of my stupor and looked up with dread. I sighed and my head fell. The lights were off, but daylight poured in from the front. Chapter 2: Where Art Thou Chapter 2 King Barak¡¯s thoughts cycled every imaginable scenario while in his son¡¯s regal chambers. He opened the armoire; still filled end to end with fine wool suit jackets, dress pants, and collared long sleeves. The kempt tester bed told him his son had not slept in it, and the servants denied entering his room that morning. He checked the fashionable desk by the wide latticed window. He rifled through the bathroom only to uncover nothing of importance. The gold-framed mirror reflected his image, and he stopped to critique it, determining he aged a great deal; his once sepia skin paled, and his long beard a mixture of blacks and greys. After a deep sigh, King Barak sat on the bed and ran fingers into his temples. Lockley, a short and stout fellow, round in both the body and the face, barged in and ripped him from his rumination. ¡°My King! There¡¯s still no sign of him throughout the kingdom. We¡¯ve checked all lightrail stations and the Broken Barrel. Maybe he¡¯s out with some woman?¡± ¡°Mmm.¡± King Barak extracted a thin shard of glass and commanded it to contact Anwar for the twelfth time. Rerouted to his voice term again, King Barak double checked for sol location and stowed the pad. ¡°He didn¡¯t take any of the roves.¡± ¡°Correct, my King. All vehicles are accounted for.¡± ¡°Check the stables, find out if there are horses missing.¡± ¡°Yes, my King. Right away.¡± Lockley genuflected and set to the task. He took to the door, turned to the room in case he missed evidence, and shut it. **** White streams vibrated beneath his boots, visible through a glass flooring that stretched the entirety of every passage within the castle. A palette of nocturnal hues bathed the halls through stained glass windows as the King traversed his domain. He pressed an intricately engraved metal door and the Solveil¡¯s light filled his vision momentarily. The breeze was cool and dry. Beneath his stone arcade he passed several servants, men and women of business, and citizens governing power that bent at the waist. The Veil¡¯s core, high above amongst the stars, embraced the continent and shielded it from itself. There were several intimidating strands in the day, waving so subtly in the blackness of space, casting awesome light and charging all life with divine energy. The King rounded a massive translucent crystal, at least twenty meters high, subtly rotating above a steel platform at the center of his grassy courtyard; it drank the shifting light so much its opaque base discharged a milky fog that reminded him of warm breath deep into winter. He climbed the steps and peered into the sky; Valek¡¯s horns sprouted from the west. A trail of burned clouds rose from the gargantuan Demon. He couldn¡¯t wait to put another hole in the dead world eater; this year he wanted its head to be no more. He stored much energy over the past few months. Steel-plated knights stationed at the intimidating metal doors that led into the castle bowed, their armor clanking, their light rifles stiff at their side. King Barak waited for them to crack the large doors enough for him to get his husky shoulders through, and the castle swallowed him whole. Instead of walking up the flight of steps, embellished by a burgundy runner that led to his dais on high, he turned. Another Knight genuflected and greeted him by a modest entrance. Through the dimmer, compact hallway, the King stood in front of the final door and proceeded. The sliding of chairs and ruffling of clothing erupted simultaneously as they stood. Twelve members, surrounding a long refectory blanketed with papers, folders, pens, and trinkets, showed their respect in their own ways. ¡°Sit please, I¡¯ve had a bit of a surprise this morning. My apologies for the wait. Please be seated.¡± Magda spoke first. She had drawn her dark hair back in a ponytail, exposing her face in such an unusual but pleasant manner. ¡°My King, is everything alright?¡± ¡°Yes, we¡¯ll discuss it shortly. Let¡¯s start with foreign affairs. I want to know about the holy war in Ashwatt.¡± Compact the conference room was, in comparison to the stout King. The stained glass in this room converted the light into dark blues, and a chained glass orb above held the spirit of a fueless fire. It cast ominous shadows upon the countenances of his counterparts. Along the walls behind his counterparts, his framed predecessors static gaze judged them with solemnity. ¡°Certainly.¡± Shane said as he crossed to the halfway point of the table. He wore an earth colored neo tunic and pants with leather grid on the knees. King Barak assumed he just returned and only made time to stow his torso wrap and battle gear. Situated at the center of the table was a metal cone. He tapped it, and out sprang a geographic hologram. Colorful pins decorated the white wispy projection; a red pin marked Sindur in the North, and annotated bold with black diagonal lines from end to end; the morbid forest. Smaller orange pins marked rest points within it, further beyond South, blue and green and yellow markers dotted the region, and Southeast, the Kingdom of Ninovah, marked in red. By Ninovah, a gradient purple zone covered the once grand city of Ashwatt. ¡°Ashwatt is entirely darkened, so much the Veil cannot pierce it. Paladin Odanodan and Sol Acacia are pursuing Daelus beside knights and infantry hailing from Ghusun and a Sol pair hailing from Ninovah.¡± ¡°Any word from Odanodan or Acacia?¡± The King said. ¡°No, my King. The scouts enter with enough haste to avoid the Demons but, the darkness continues to take ground. Bru spent over an hour inside Ashwatt, and he holds the record.¡± ¡°Then I guess you can¡¯t do your job, can you?¡± Othre scoffed. He sat opposite of the hologram with his arms folded. His oily scalp seemed to glisten, same with the declining hair surrounding it. ¡°It¡¯s not us that can¡¯t do our job, it''s the damned Paladins.¡± Shane retorted. ¡°How many scouts at a time?¡± King Barak said. ¡°Just one. We¡¯ve tried more and lost Ezra and Keenan. The closer we travel to the center of the city the denser the combatants become, and that zone grows each day.¡± Barak sat in silence, thinking. ¡°Aren¡¯t you the Scout Master, Shane? Can you not complete the mission yourself? You send your division like fodder.¡± Othre said. ¡°How about you keep your nose in your business and out of mine.¡± Shane argued. ¡°Now now, let¡¯s play nice.¡± Magda warned. ¡°The Paladins are not dead.¡± Malshawn said. The King¡¯s general stood and approached. He looked perpetually fatigued, eyes bagged and low, cheeks gaunt, with scarred pale skin. The finest military leader on the continent, but damned intimidating, even to King Barak. ¡°I would know it if they were dead, and this is an area outside of your expertise. What they need is support, a care package.¡± ¡°You¡¯re suggesting we bring them supplies but we can¡¯t find them. How would you know they live?¡± Shane asked. ¡°Three weeks ago that darkness spread at a much faster rate...¡± He waved his hand carefully and the time displayed center of the blurred map. The purple perimeter shrunk as time reverted. ¡°¡­And upon our Paladin¡¯s arrival¡­¡± He waved his hand again and time moved forward. ¡°Here the growth significantly decreased. Had we not sent anyone, I imagine it near the gates of Ninovah by now.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°I see.¡± Barak said. ¡°General Malshawn, you propose our Paladins have made contact with the Demon Lord.¡± ¡°Yes, not only that, but I have information that suggests Queen Neve will send her Paladins in to eliminate the Demon Lord. If we send Asa and Esau, that affliction will recede.¡± Malshawn said. ¡°I¡¯ll send them with supplies as well.¡± Magda said. ¡°And you can recall the scouts. They¡¯ve done enough.¡± ¡°We could assume Daelus has run dry of souls to devour as well. It would be unfortunate to lose our best warriors to assumption. Shane, what other information have you been able to gather?¡± The King¡¯s inquiry turned all eyes to him. He cleared his throat. ¡°Queen Neve has an army of about three thousand outside the perimeter of the darkness, with a large encampment on the hillside. Mostly Knights and infantry with a dozen or so Sols. Her fighters are falling back each day; the Demons are collecting a body count, turning her own army against her. ¡° ¡°She¡¯s feeding them, my King, growing their numbers through tentative action.¡± Malshawn said. ¡°She delivers a collection of souls. We must act quickly!¡± ¡°There¡¯s more.¡± Shane said. He pinched his index and thumb together and hovered it above Ashwatt. He opened them and the map magnified. Three zones radiated outward and became a lighter shade of purple from the center. ¡°Our Paladins are within this center zone; we¡¯ve searched about seventy five percent of everything surrounding it with barely any hint of their whereabouts. There is a void preventing us from entry, it''s how two of my scouts perished. Daelus is most likely within.¡± ¡°A void?¡± King Barak asked as Lockley quietly entered the room. He nodded to the King and stood smart against the wall behind. ¡°Yes my King. We¡¯re not sure how our Paladin team entered, if they¡¯re in it at all. It¡¯s unlike anything I have ever witnessed. The pressure near it alone is enough to repel us.¡± ¡°The scouts have done enough. Recall them and we¡¯ll send support.¡± Malshawn said. ¡°General we are not done confirming, and I find it oddly suspicious¡ª¡± ¡°Scout Master, you have represented us to satisfaction. The Kingdom of Ninovah will receive the support it needs.¡± The King said. ¡°Northwest is Karrigan. I¡¯ll send your division there for a reprieve, I imagine we¡¯ll need them in the coming days. The mayor is welcoming enough.¡± ¡°As you command.¡± Shane acquiesced. ¡°Send a messenger, allow them two more days to gather information, and thereafter we will take decisive action.¡± He cast eyes on a gentleman in the back and returned to Shane. ¡°You will remain here. I have an urgent task that requires your expertise.¡± ¡°My King?¡± Silence pervaded as the King turned to Lockley, cueing him to speak. ¡°The Sidesouth Stable Master mentioned he¡¯s missing a horse; Hadie is his name. Also, one of the guards at the South Gate tower swore he saw the prince exit on horseback before the Veil¡¯s embrace. He assumed the boy was out for an early ride.¡± ¡°You¡¯re saying the prince has fled?¡± Othre exclaimed. The atmosphere shifted. There were twelve members, many of which were not as vocal as those who had contributed, and they were the most worried. Magda and Othre shot a strange look to Malshawn who unsurprisingly had an unchanged countenance. ¡°I am not convinced he has fled; however, it seems likely. Scout Master, do your digging and come to me before nightfall. When we have confirmed his absence, I will send you to retrieve him.¡± The King said. ¡°He¡¯s off running about again!¡± Othre retorted. ¡°And what if he doesn¡¯t return before the Strike on Valek¡­¡± ¡°Light forbid he¡¯s entered the forest!¡± Magda said. ¡°Leave it to me, my King. I¡¯ll have him here before nightfall.¡± Malshawn said. ¡°Have I not been clear?¡± The King said. Graveness in his voice set everyone on edge. Othre turned wide eyed and looked to the table, Magda nodded, her eyes fixed on her King. Those three let their tongues loose. The room watched him closely, like children frightened of a wrathful father. It had been long since he made an example. They had forgotten their predecessors. He glared at his general. ¡°Was my decision unsatisfying?¡± ¡°Of course not, my King.¡± Malshawn genuflected. ¡°The task is for the Scout Master and him alone. That will be the end of it.¡± ¡°Understood.¡± Shane said. ¡°We are no longer speaking about my son. The Strike on Valek is in three days, and we have fanatics in our cells. There is much to plan.¡± **** Stepping on a circular platform where the stairs terminated deep beneath the castle, King Barak approached a colossal chamber door made of darkwood at the end of a narrow passageway. He flicked his fingers and lit a row of sconces upon the ornate hall, and it brightened the looming iron ward upon the entry. The massive doors rumbled like an earthquake to his touch, carefully turning inward, and he entered into a hall much smaller. It shut behind him. Within was King Barak¡¯s personal treasury, a chamber the size of a coliseum, a fantastic display of cursed and forgotten familial wealth, dating centuries upon centuries ago. More sconces activated and exposed ancient possessions that overtime housed dust, however, the ceiling remained a dark abyss. Against the walls, rows of locked doors, some chained or locked and others ajar; amid the stone floor, piles of trinkets and jewelry laid haphazardly about; hanging from lengthy chains, clear boxes contained Demon remnants, trophies alive and inanimate. The deeply inlayed flooring held a proward that required short wooden bridges to traverse its winding gaps. The stale air smelled of aged books. Each footfall echoed as if another walked with him. Upon each bridge a sign, and crossing it, a soft activation ringing throughout. Only twice he had stopped to rethink the correct pathing. Memories recalled as he gazed upon seized trinkets linked to successful excursions, and the bridges reminded him of his failure to follow directions as a child, crying and frozen by fear, and rescued through chance of his grandfather¡¯s attempt to steal and pawn a precious stone. In the office ahead, much closer if only one bridge brought him down the center of the treasury, he spent valuable moments of solitude that which no one could interrupt. It was also the grave of his maddened father. The chamber growled, stone rubbing against stone. He crossed the final bridge. Up ahead, where the final security measure waited, a discrepancy. From a short distance, he crouched to inspect scorched and blackened marks several meters from his office door; central of the mark a patch of grey untouched stone. Fresh as they looked, King Barak sensed a recent intrusion, and urgency brought haste to step. There was no longer a need to acquiesce to the chamber. He knew that, of all the things that could be stolen from this treasury, there was one item worth them all combined. He continued through an unseen threshold, six wards, like projections of divine light, activated in two rows of three and illuminated the abyss above. They increased in white brightness. A buzz reverberated. Each ward pulsed, and hundreds of lightning strands rained upon him like crooked whips over his body. They blinded him momentarily¡ª a minor inconvenience as he pressed forward without a flinch. It did not tear his attire, his flesh, or strike a blemish, but it singed stone and smoke spewed in heavy plumes. The concentrated storm persisted until he reached his office. A simple push and the ward separated. Lightning ceased and the wards faded into nothingness. Before entering he ran his fingers along a few dents in the iron ward. Whoever entered beforehand discovered the mechanisms in this chamber as they traversed it. One shot would have done the trick, but there were multiple attempts at breaking the seal. The door to safety would not unlock until someone crossed the threshold. Not only that, it was a difficult shot, especially while bombarded by lightning; that part inconceivable. He had one suspect. A pillar of warm radiance spilled from the slit and into the chamber. A focused ray of artificial sunlight ambushed his desk through a lattice window situated against the wall across. Before it lay a circular hand woven and colorful motif rug in the center. To the left, two rectangular columns attached to grey and gold trimmed walls framed various weaponry that hung from iron hooks. To the right, a large painting depicted a centuries old Holy War, a realistic depiction of mutilated humans, disembodied half human half Demon cambions, blood and ichor, limbs and corpses, laying among blood-stained war grounds that underlined a descending sky, occupied with furious battles between the celestial and damned; hundreds of souls cried, screamed, and shouted. Atop the magnificent rug a carved podium, atop the podium an empty sword stand. King Barak approached with intrigue. There what lied for less than a decade was his father¡¯s sword, deprived of the flesh and blood of Demons both trivial and grand; the Black Drinker. He hadn¡¯t battled in ages, felt that his lack of combat made him complacent; weak. All of those who knew the layout could be numbered on one hand, and of those with enough skill, intelligence, and still alive, two fingers. If it was his son, that meant he was truly gone and in trouble, and if another, a symptom of insurrection. The formidable King, even if he lacked his divine weapon, could vanquish whatever spawn threatens him or the kingdom, but couldn¡¯t Banish them from existence. It was here he sensed inevitable danger. He sat at his desk, sliding himself beneath it, and fetched himself a paper and pen. **** Scout Master Shane, donned in leather and plate armor, his brown hair drawn back into a tail, waited promptly at the South gate. The stubborn Earth had almost faced away from the Veil, but its larger veins trailed away. The gates closed soon, and some of the citizens rushed to make it in before the guards set checkpoints. They bowed as it took precedence, and the King ignored it, waving away everyone¡¯s prerogative so that they make through in time. He tasked his guards to herd them in while he addressed his finest scout, who knelt before him. ¡°Scout Master, I hope you know that I¡¯m grateful for your work in Ashwatt.¡± ¡°I understand, my King.¡± ¡°I assume we have come to the same conclusion.¡± ¡°Yes. Your son is in the forest.¡± ¡°Knowing him, what are the chances he lives?¡± Shane furrowed his brow. ¡°The nearest rest point is only a few miles from here, and if he knew of it, chances are high. If not, unlikely, however not zero percent. He¡¯s a clever boy, lucky in fact.¡± He stood. ¡°You are granted royal provisions and are to depart immediately. Bring him here, whether live or dead.¡± Shane started to walk away. ¡°Deliver this letter to him.¡± He held out an envelope, closed by the seal of Sundur.