Smoke and Iron-Legends of Silva-Book 1

Chapter 6-Secrets in the Dark

"Why are you telling me this?" I question, nervousnes quickly traveling to the pit of my stomach.

The cold feeling of dread already making its way into my bones. In anticipation of his next words that I know will not bring good luck for me.

"I am not the only one he has summoned," he says, his voice resigned and almost sad.

"The king has ordered me to bring him the man who will find this interloper."

"Which just so happens to be me," I add.

He nods solemnly, and heads to my bed and pulls off my cloak on the hook beside the headboard. He half heartedly tosses it to me and I catch it with one hand.

"Yes it happens to be you," he replies, "Now hurry and get yourself ready we will be leaving shortly."

Talber walks past me and opens the door so quickly that I barely avoid being hit by it. Running a hand through my hair I let out an exasperated sigh. Wonderful, not only will I be dealing with a painful hangover, but I will also be going to the one place that I dread the most. I head to my trunk and hurriedly throw on a black wool overcoat on top of my shirt.

Grabbing my weapons belt, I put it around my waist making sure that only my sword will be visible. As an extra bit of caution I take one of the many black masks that lay in the trunk. After securing it to my face, making sure the string is tied correctly, I put on my long cloak. Pulling the hood over my face and then securing a pair of dark leather gloves on my hands, I am finally ready.

Heading out of the room, I head down the two flights of stairs to the main doors of the building. I take one last look of the main area with hard oak floors, dark leather chairs, and its white ceiling depicting two great armies as they battle each other to the death.

Bare and gnarled trees surround the battlefield. A field filled with the bodies of the dead and dying. The ground spotted with dirt and blood, while above the fighting soldiers and blazing cannons is a great swarm of crows and ravens. Their black feathered bodies formed into a large cloak. One enveloping a masked pale skeletal figure holding a silver scythe. His name, which strikes fear into the hearts of many, one who's power that no one dares to question. The Raven King, god of Death and War, patron god of assassins.

Silently I reach inside my coat pocket for one of the black feathers that all who worship him have in their possession. Next to the fireplace on my left, is a small altar where prayers are given. I head to it and place the feather gently on the strip of black wool that lays on it. Lighting a match I set the feather alight, the orange flames sparking and turning black.

Eyes closed I pray for the strength that I will need very soon, strength to keep me from the anger that will boil over into rage. Opening my eyes I blow onto the burning feather, my breath guttering the flame and turning the feather into ash. As always the altar and the wool remain unmarked, the only sign of something having been burnt is the pile of feathery ashes on the wool cloth.

I force my legs to move and head out the door. Weak sunshine meets my eyes as I step outside, the sky overhead filled with dark grey clouds. The sound of horses drags my gaze away from the ominous weather.

A simple gray coach manned by a driver in silver livery, and pulled by two black horses lay waiting. Lord Talber in a gray wool cloak, stands beside the carriage and motions for me to come. As I make my way towards the coach he opens the door and steps inside. Following him in, I close the door behind me and take the seat opposite him. Putting his hand out the window Talber signals for the driver to go.

With the snap of reins we are off, off to the palace filled with lying, scheming nobles. A place where your every step is watched closely by spies that go through rooms like ghosts. A place that drove me to escape it every chance I got.