The Chronicles of Protan (Book 1): The Shadowed Man

Chapter 32

Breeana stood watching as the last of the bodies and severed limbs were cast into the pit in the north courtyard of the palace. Dawn had arrived, and with it came the saturating heat of the central Creek summer. It had barely moved past the fifth hour, and she now stood sweating not only from the night’s battle, but now with pure perspiration.

She paid it no mind, as what truly plagued her was how the night’s events unfolded.

Still filthy and battle ridden, she watched with intrigue as the soldiers dropped the bodies with wet thuds upon each other. What bothered her was not whether what was left of the deceased Guards would resurrect as the undead, but of what could possibly be in store for them now that these creatures were fully functional, and the control of Yakuza’s left hand man.

She had now witnessed first hand what her father and Yakuza had concocted over the past few years. At first, it terrified her, yet now, she felt a strange sensation of intrigue settling upon her. She could not understand it, as everything that had transpired recently would rattle most to their very core. Yet Breeana felt something else. She felt as if her world was beginning to take shape, and her purpose within the Realm was finally revealing itself.

She would find the answers to her questions, and the underworld would take her long before she allowed this to rest.

“Milady,” came a familiar voice behind her, and she turned slowly, the thoughtful gaze still fixed. She turned to find Paldin, approaching with his usual air of confidence, with chest fully armoured and pushed out, his head high as he towered over her as he reached. His expression however was concerned as he stood at the pit, the stench filling his nostrils.

“Old habits die hard it would seem,” he breathed in the Bulta tongue as he watched the last of the limbs being tossed.  Breeana grunted absent mindedly as she turned back. Paldin continued, “One would think that anyone of sound mind would know that the dead do not rise if killed by the undead.”

“As old as that myth is, caution has always been my father’s strong suit,” Breeana grumbled. Paldin tilted his head at the term ‘caution’, but noticing the state within which Breeana stood beside him, he felt it better to leave the subject where it stood.

“Any information as to where the sorcerer’s minion would go with that large of a horde? Surely he does not think that he would be able to hide them for very long.”

Breeana sighed before she responded, fighting the rage of Krush escaping her grasp once again, “My calculated guess would be as good as yours Paldin. However, the abandoned House of Yakuza would be a good place to start.”

“That is as good as any. We will start there then,” he nodded. Breeana, so lost in thought as she watched a soldier begin to throw dried branches and stumps of wood into the pit, barely noticed Paldin slowly turn to her. She broke from her trance once the soldiers threw the first of the lit torches over the bodies.

Turning to him, she was reminded again of the man’s stature, towering even above her. He stood arms folded, his eyes barely flinching at her unsightly appearance: “Unless you would prefer to rest before we embark on the investigation. It would seem that the night has taken its toll on many.”

Breeana blanched lightly, “Do you mean to say that you have been set to hunt them?”

“Correct Milady,” he responded nodding lightly. “The Royal Guard has a serious casualty list. More than half of the force have fallen. It would seem that his Emperor has little choice but to make up numbers both within the palace and the army itself.”

Breeana nodded in agreement, and asked arrogantly, “And you require my assistance then?”

“Not necessarily Milady,” he said grinning lightly. “Yet, I know you well enough to not want to stay within the walls of the palace when your real desire is fixated elsewhere.”