"What the survivors say, your majesties," Jarl said, twisting his cap between his fingers, "there were fifteen to thirty wighti... night wights."
The near-whiddling man ended his sentences with a cough and yet another bow, however slight, like a mutt eager for attention and terrified to receive it. He hunched there, lifelight tinged with a pitiful greenish yellow hue, sweat beading on his brow.
Master Elwith sat just behind the sovereigns on his small backless seat that grew from the floor. Hands laid precisely in his lap, the High Mage paid little attention to the quavering words as he congealed his lifelight into the singular mass needed to produce Works. He released it. And without hesitation he seized it again. This was an exercise that the acolytes started with when they joined the mages' ranks. Elwith still used the technique to occupy his mind and continually maintain his mental discipline, especially when nothing else would do. One could never have too much self-control. A lack thereof always produced disaster.
The sovereigns occupied their thrones, each seat a single piece of stone swelling up into botanical intricacy, but from Master Elwith's position only a limb or two could be seen of the royal couple. The food monger before them would have appeared, in his circles, on the very cusp of affluence, but here, amongst the royal court, his clothing, his very bearing betrayed him for what he truly was: nothing more than a common merchant.
Elwith sniffed. He couldn't fault a man for trying to elevate himself to better circumstances, after all Master Elwith, himself, had come from quite humble beginnings, but the man could have at least bathed. His pungent odor reached the mage, even over the considerable distance, in near eye-watering waves.
Movement snapped his attention to Lady Telias. She held a single hand under her nose, face twisted with disgust. Elwith smiled to himself.
Oh, can't stand the smell, he thought with a pout. Poor thing.
From his observations, wighties and all their ilk had far superior senses than humans, so while the man's aroma was unpleasant for Master Elwith, it must have been unbearable for Lady Telias. The thought of her discomfort brought a childish satisfaction to Elwith, before he turned his attention back to the proceedings.
Of course, the sovereigns had already read reports, had various ministers inform them as to the progress of the investigation, and consulted with him, as to the implications surrounding the wight's raid on the Shadow colony. Still, they insisted on hearing the accounts first-hand themselves.
"From what you saw," said Queen Brishwyn. She leaned forward, exposing the bodice of her long green muslin gown, its long sleeves tapering to a point over her hands. "How much destruction did the feral wights cause to the colony in terms of casualties and buildings?"
Jarl twisted his knitted cap even more. His eyes darted to where Lady Telias sat. A shiver coursed through his body as he turned his attention back to the queen. "I'd say more than half of the Shadows were killed, but I couldn't make an exact count, they'd already burned the bodies. I counted thirty-two that were still there. Half the hovels had been knocked to pieces."
"In the past have you ever seen anything remotely approaching this level of destruction?" King Othrad asked.
"Never, Your Majesties," said Jarl. He bowed again. "Every now and then the Shadows would tell that a wightie." He stammered, his eyes flicking to the wights. "'scuse me, night wight, or possibly two, on the rarest times three, and would kill maybe a handful of Shadows. They've never torn down one of the lean-tos before, let alone ten, and they never killed this many people at one time. It's nothing I've ever seen before nor me da before me."
He ended with another bow and just stood there grasping his cap, shifting from foot to foot.
"Thank you, Jarl," King Othrad said. "You may go."
The man retreated backward, bowing over and over again as he went, muttering pleasantries under his breath the entire way.
All were silent. Even after the imposing doors closed behind the merchant no one made a sound. They had heard the reports. Imagined the devastation for themselves. Master Elwith didn't have to work very hard to imagine what the carnage must have looked like. He had examined the aftereffects of countless wightie attacks and now, having been forced to work with Lady Telias and her people, he had become intimately acquainted with their effortless ability to kill and their utter lack of remorse.
Again, he brought his scrutiny to bear on Lady Telias with narrowed eyes.
Her attention wandered over the room. A small, secret smile colored her lips, and the sight of it clenched his jaw. The idea of this creature sitting perfectly at ease in the throne room itself, the center of all Haimlant, eyes appraising the Great Works of the past, had him grasping his livid lifelight.
Just a thought. One little thought...
Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. If it were, the wightie problem wouldn't be a problem. Not a single one would still exist.
Leaving his genocidal daydreams, Master Elwith followed Lady Telias' survey of the room.
The architecture was pre-Waning in the school of Imposition, Master Elwith's preferred style. The room existed within the rock as though it had always been there from the beginning of creation. Everything came together without seams. Flawless. As near to perfection as anyone could reach.
A flicker of regret twitched through Master Elwith. Maybe the Waning hadn't been the best choice. Maybe the world would have been better off if everyone could Work such creations into being. Maybe, just maybe, his predecessors had been completely wrong.
Right or wrong, thought Elwith, sighing, I'll fix the defects.
Domed and rising fifty feet above his head, the ceiling shifted colors, seamlessly between blue to purple to red and back again, ever glowing with a soft radiance. The thrones sat exactly opposite the curved doors, raised off the main floor by three perfectly squared steps, whose edges looked sharp enough to cut flesh. Polished to a mirror like sheen, the parquetry floor held a precise symmetry, gleaming under the mage-stones set in the columns that ringed the room.
Occupying the seats on both sides, each council member peered at their king and queen. Some twisted handkerchiefs. Others simply wrung their fingers. Words burdened the trembling lips of some. Words they dared not speak. Others waited for their monarchs to give them their opinions as their wide, hesitant eyes stayed on them with dutiful constancy.
Master Elwith just shook his head. His mentor and adopted father would have called them mundane. Hollow creatures that never flashed out except in a mad scrambling for another breath. Prisoners rather than masters of their own lives. Surely, there had to be a few with flicker-less lifelights.
His mindeye roved over each councilman and woman, with a hope that at least some few might have annealed their inner mettle to some amount of integrity. The unfortunate prospect that dimly dazzled and fizzled amidst the mental blackness underwhelmed him spectacularly. There were those few who had some potential, but they bent what little control they had toward personal conquest and petty ambition. Little to no consideration for a greater anything. He huffed at the irony that he had had that thought as his eyes came back into focus. Lady Telias' putrid eyes met his, dousing the humor he had found a moment ago.
"Master Elwith, do you have any ideas as to what this recent raid might mean?" King Othrad asked, leaning himself on the armrest of his throne but not turning entirely about to look at the High Mage.
Master Elwith reluctantly turned his attention to his king. "I would prefer not to speculate without further data to examine." He paused. His attention turned back to Lady Telias with hard intent, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Especially, when the enemy is in our midst."
The thrones as well as Master Elwith's seat occupied a position in the room where even a whisper uttered would easily be heard by all present. Murmurs arose. Heads turned about as mouths wagged. Some anxious darting eyes flicked over to Telias and her entourage. The chittering air, accented with the dust of centuries, thrummed with nervous speculation.
Lady Telias had not moved. Neither had her companions. They sat so still one might have presumed them statues formed from the very rock itself when the room had first been Worked from the stone.
"Master Elwith," said Queen Brishwyn, her voice tight with command. "We are among allies here. Now, would you be so kind as to answer my husband's question?"
Master Elwith's head nodded in stiff acquiescence as he straightened his back to sit as rigidly as possible. "It could mean any number of things. It might have to do with the rise of Manu in the recent nights. They simply might be hungrier than previously observed. But I personally believe that this raid, in all its brazen cruelty and excess, has more to do with retaliation than any other hypothesis that might be presented tonight. I would very much like to hear what our ally, Lady Telias, has to say on the matter, owing to the fact that she should be quite an expert about the motives and goals of our enemy."
All eyes went to Telias.
She nodded to Master Elwith, a gesture that had him clenching his hands in his lap, as she arose from her seat and glided to the center of the room, not a sound so much as echoed back in the cavernous chamber. The ceiling had shifted back into a reddish hue making Lady Telias' pale features gleam diabolically, like an animal bathed in the blood of its latest kill.
Go on beastie, thought Master Elwith, spin some more fanciful lies.
"Though we have rarely agreed on few if anything," said Lady Telias, "I must concur with Master Elwith on this matter."
Whispers chirped about Master Elwith as he narrowed his eyes. He didn't like it when Lady Telias agreed with him on anything. Something about it felt rancid and foul.
Both the king and queen remained motionless, though their lifelights flared out at the words. The king's fingers glided over his throne's armrest. The queen tapped a single nail against one of hers.
"I firmly believe that the queen of the night executed this raid," said Telias, "a raid that just as Master Elwith appropriately described as brazenly cruel and excessive, in order to retaliate for the several successful raids that we have made on her sanctuaries. No one has killed night wights, in large or small numbers or even singly, ever. In the raids we've undertaken some twelve wights were killed. Considering that, until now, most wights thought themselves invincible or at the very least beyond any injury, this rate of success has to have made their leader take notice. In one sense, this raid demonstrates her growing fear or at least unease. To some degree, this atrocity helps us, for we now know that she feels ill at ease with her loss."
Most of the lifelights surrounding the High Mage glowed with effervescent blues or lively oranges. The king and queen both shared a rich magenta hue with spots of pink fluttering through it, like cheery blossoms blown on a breeze. Some present nodded their heads. They turned from one to another, chattering out a few words of undue hope that Master Elwith caught from amongst the mumbled sounds. General Biligrim and his men, still and silent as though at attention, sported the faint trace of contentedness on their lips.
Master Elwith sat with a puckered face as though a sour taste had assaulted his tongue. How could such small victories give these noble nitwits such hope? He just shook his head in an attempt to fathom it.
King Othrad leaned forward, opening his mouth to speak. Master Elwith's dead voice cut him off, penetrating all other sound in the room easily.
"And how many wights would you say the queen of the night originally had in her ranks, Lady Telias?"
All chatter died. Sober looks replaced hopeful ones.
Lady Telias' brows drew together. "How many?"
"Yes, how many night wights originally occupied the ranks of her army, as it were?"
Lady Telias' opened her mouth to respond.
"You see I ask," said Master Elwith, raising a single finger, "because if I were to know that number it would be very easy to subtract those we have eliminated and arrive at a fairly accurate estimate as to how many wights she still has at her disposal. Rather than simply making assumptions based on insufficient evidence and giving everyone present unwarranted hope, why don't we base our sanguine state on a more substantial foundation."
The rapid tapping of several feet rattled up into the dome and showered back down on everyone's ears. The queen glanced back over her shoulder at Master Elwith, her mouth tight, eyes sharp, before she snapped her attention back to Lady Telias.
Someone had to ask the obvious question, thought Elwith with a shrug.
"I was never privy to that information, Master Elwith," the she-wight said. "As I have told you on more than one occasion."
"Yes. So you have," he said. Rising from his seat, he descended the dais's steps and sauntered toward the she-wight. "So you would have us believe that you came to your senses as to the evils of this, queen of the night, undertook the very dangerous task of discovering others that felt as you do, devised this scheme to defect, and did not once consider how valuable such information as the exact population of the feral wights might be?"
He began to orbit her, walking steadily a few paces distance from her. His legs kicked out his official robes. Each of his steps clipped out sharply as his boot's heels struck the floor. This close to the creature, he kept his eyes and mindeye ever trained on her and his lifelight grasped in his mental grip as one would handle a sword before a duel.
"There was certain information that she guarded very closely," said Lady Telias, not bothering to watch him as he circled. "That particular tidbit, I believe, was only known to her innermost circle."
"And you didn't try various methods of subterfuge to obtain it? Surely you must have known how useful such information would have been to us in our joint effort to rid the world of those night wights that don't adhere to your gentler persuasion of living."
"We tried everything possible without revealing ourselves." Telias held her hands out in a supplicating manner, her face besmirched with unease. "You have to understand, your majesties, our former queen is a paranoid creature bent on seeing her goals of complete dominion over Haimlant come to fruition no matter the cost. She will allow no one, wight or human, to stand in her way. If we had attempted to obtain any further intelligence, we would not be here now. We thought it more prudent to save our lives and help you rather than run the risk of discovery and possibly the annihilation of both our peoples."
"It is indeed a pity, Lady Telias," Master Elwith said, his voice mockingly seasoned with concern as he stood behind her, "that you don't have any more intelligence."
Gasps came from many at the hardly veiled barb.
Master Elwith smirked as Lady Telias' fists balled up at her sides. How far can I push you, beastie? Everyone has a breaking point.
"Master Elwith," said Queen Brishwyn, leaning forward, her tone rebuking. "There is no call for that. Now you will either afford Lady Telias the respect she deserves as an ally to your sovereigns or you will withdraw from this line of questioning."
His robes rustled as he executed a curt bow. "Forgive me, Your Majesties. It won't happen again."
The queen nodded to the mage, permitting him to proceed.
"Lady Telias," Master Elwith began again. "You mean to say that you couldn't even estimate roughly how many wights make up your former queen's ranks? From what you remember, from what you saw during your time amongst them you could at least do that, couldn't you?"
"It was one of her most closely guarded secrets, Master Elwith. She had many, and she shared few and only with select individuals when it suited her. I'm sure you can appreciate the value of secrets. I hardly think you share everything you know with your underlings. What secrets do you keep from them?"
He stopped his circling as he came even with her. Lady Telias only moved her head to look at him.
"I keep dangerous truths from my acolytes and those of the lower ranks for their own good."
A pensive tension constricted the she-wight's face. "Do you think our former leader has ever used that same logic to justify her actions?"
"I couldn't say," Master Elwith said, sidestepping the barb by continuing his circling, though his breath stuttered as his stomach clenched. "I've never had the misfortune to meet your queen. And if I ever did, I'm sure that our meeting would be more than memorable. But do you truly compare me to her?"
"Only in one sense."
"And that would be?"
"That both of you will do whatever it takes to achieve your goals or vendettas no matter how many lives you might demolish in the process."
A general stirring rippled through those present.
Now, it was Master Elwith's turn to clench his fists. His fingernails dug into his palms. What would you know of my vendetta, beastie?
Both King Othrad and Queen Brishwyn leaned toward one another, whispering behind raised hands. Their eyes darted between the mage and she-wight.
"If you mean to say," said Master Elwith, his lifelight restive, "that I will do what is necessary to ensure my sovereigns' safety as well as ensure the continual freedom of my species then yes, I would have to agree with you. But I'm confused as to what you mean by vendetta. I bear no personal grudge against you or any number of your people. I do however choose to error on the side of caution with regards to trusting a race of creatures that has tormented and fed upon my own for the past four centuries. Can you truly fault me for such caution?"
Lady Telias faced Master Elwith, doing a quick about-face. Soldiers raised their air-bows at the sudden spin. They lowered them at a gesture from General Biligrim. No one breathed.
"I cannot fault you for such a noble motive, but I would put to you that that is not your only motivation or even your primary one."
"Lady Telias." The king's voice turned her back toward the thrones. His face stern. His words firm but not angry. "What is it you would accuse Master Elwith of? I would warn you to tread carefully. I will not tolerate any slanderous remarks to be made against any of my advisors, especially the High Mage, without evidence. Do you understand?"
"Entirely, Your Majesty." She bowed slightly at the waist. "And I assure you I would not dream of accusing anyone without first obtaining sufficient evidence to support my accusation."
The king nodded his permission to proceed.
"And what do you have to accuse me of?" Master Elwith asked. His voice betrayed an almost indistinguishable quaver. She couldn't possibly know...
The she-wight cast her eyes on him, deep and hungry like her very being, a fathomless anti-existence ever hungry for life. He stood tall, straightening his slightly hunched shoulders. He dominated his lifelight, determined to not let so much as a tremor ripple through it again.
A murmuring arose as Elwith composed himself.
"Silence," King Othrad called. "I call for silence."
An echoing silence remained. Even the motes in the air seemed to hang in place.
"You are an orphan are you not, Master Elwith?" asked Lady Telias.
He blinked. With that one question he knew, knew without any reservation, where this line of questioning was going to lead.
How did she find out? The words growled out in the ether of his mind. Their rumbling threatened his freshly asserted control over his lifelight. He cinched his mind tighter, while tamping down the building heat in his chest.
"I don't see how my lack of parents has anything to do with this."
"Don't you?" asked the she-wight, beginning to orbit him. "But you do acknowledge that you are an orphan?"
Feet shuffling as hands clasped in front of him, Master Elwith tracked Telias' arc while she remained in his line of sight. "Yes. Yes, I am an orphan. My parents died when I was but a boy and the mages after some examination determined that I had potential and thereafter inducted me into their ranks. I believe this is fairly common knowledge to all those present, even the soldiers."
"And you were born where?" Telias came back into view and continued to circle.
"Again, you ask what is common knowledge." Each word left his mouth as though they were beneath his dignity to utter. "I was born in the Forest Lord's duchy of Monve." He threw his hands up. "Is there even a purpose to this line of questioning? Are you going to accuse me of having been born in some other part of Haimlant? Oh, how scandalous! I don't know if I would ever recover from such a scandalous report. Lock the doors! Hold all here prisoner! Force them to swear an oath of silence before this malicious gossip escapes!"
His voice had risen in volume and mockery. He had turned about looking at the various parties present. Some laughed. Others frowned at his ridiculous antics. Most would not meet his gaze.
Cowards! When I find out which one of you betrayed me...
A sharp crack made all jump to attention. Another thud followed. All eyes went to Queen Brishwyn who wielded a mazer of considerable thickness. Its wooden proportions hammered against one of her throne's stony armrests. Her improvised gavel rang throughout the chamber.
Master Elwith pulled up short in the midst of his childish antics. Sheepishly averting his eyes from his queen, as a child would after being caught pilfering his mother's freshly made almond cakes, he stood half-bowed with self-rebuke.
"Master Elwith," Queen Brishwyn said, her voice ringing out as strongly as her mazer had. "I would think someone of your position as well as your years would be able to comport themselves as is befitting of both. My husband and I respect you greatly and have heeded your counsel on more than one occasion because we saw the wisdom in your words. We stand by you because you have much to offer and because you have proven yourself trustworthy. Would you have us think that our trust has been misplaced with such a demonstration?"
"No, Your Majesty," Master Elwith said, head still downturned.
"Very well then," she said, settling herself and discarding the mazer. "You will answer Lady Telias' questions and cease from any further demonstrations of the kind. Am I understood?"
"Entirely, Your Majesty." Head still bowed, he nodded his acknowledgement. All the while he strove against his lifelight as one might an unbroken horse. It bucked and tossed, resisting and resenting the bridle he had placed upon it. In truth, though, he fought only himself.
I am master of myself! He subdued his unwieldy lifelight with a final jerk and flex of will.
"Master Elwith."
Lady Telias' placid voice made the mage jerk. He shot a dark look at her.
"I was not accusing you of lying about your birthplace. Hardly. But I will call into question your claim to having been orphaned at the tender age of four."
Master Elwith said nothing. Straightening to his full height, he fixed his eyes forward, he locked his jaw, and drew his mouth into a thin line.
"I would like to relate a tale," the she-wight said. "A very different one than you have led everyone present to believe. Let's start this tale as the bards of old would shall we. Lo! We have heard tell of the pain of poverty in days past and how it has rendered some parents without hope. Oft did Edward and his wife, Ermelind, wish to assuage their burning hunger, oft did they strive to reap of Werold's great bounty, but to no avail. Manu's curse seemed poured upon them with ever increasing fury."
"Lady Telias," King Othrad said, interrupting, his voice flat, "dispense with the theatrics."
"Of course, Your Majesty." Her steps resumed after the slight hiccup, though no report of her tread could be heard.
Master Elwith ground his teeth together.
"Edward and Ermelind had a son, did they not, Master Elwith? asked the she-wight.
"As you already know I was that child." Master Elwith muttered. "You know my parents' names; this proves what?"
"Former parents if I'm not mistaken?"
"That's how one becomes an orphan or so I'm told."
"But they didn't die when you have led everyone to believe they did, now did they?" She stopped in her tracks alongside Master Elwith. He swiveled only his head to look at her.
"What motives could I possibly have to lie about that?" he asked.
"Several," said the she-wight, stalking forward again but changing her direction. "To cover the mages' treachery at the time. To cover your own personal shame. There are a few others but I don't think they merit mentioning, do you?"
Master Elwith's throat bobbed in a tight swallow. An image of Telias untwisting in a line of smoke on the ground before him assaulted his imagination. He did little to resist it. A dark hint of a smile stole into his eyes as they unfocused with the image.
"You see at that time your parents were truly in dire straits," said Lady Telias, explaining this information to him as he would to an acolyte. "They had no money and very little food, so little in fact that they were close to starving to death. Still they were good parents, they did what they could to keep you alive, feeding you before they took thought to feed themselves. But even the most devoted parents can only continue on in such a manner before hunger wins out. And at that point, the High Mage of the time came through your parents' small village. A Master Oswin, if I'm not mistaken?"
"You haven't been to this point, Lady Telias," said Master Elwith, no longer looking at her when she crossed into his line of sight, his eyes fixed forward on a point behind the sovereigns.
"This Master Oswin saw your parents and for some reason took pity on them. Noticing their deplorable state and also seeing that they were struggling to care for their young son, he decided to test the boy and see if he were eligible to enter the mages' ranks. He found that the child possessed an impressive aptitude for the mystic arts and made your parents a deal."
A cough broke the thick silence. No one turned toward the source. All leaned forward to hear the tale open before them. Even the king and queen inclined themselves forward, completely absorbed with the story.
Like vultures, thought the mage, you'll take any tidbit of carrion you can find.
"He would pay them a sum of money," said Lady Telias, "and they would relinquish all claims they had on the boy. He would raise the child personally and bring him up to be his predecessor on the condition that the parents never try to contact him from that day forward."
She came around Master Elwith again, but he hardly noticed. His breathing shook from him. His eyes were glazed with the scenes of his origins playing before them. Arms hanging slack at his sides, his fingers twitched sporadically, while his lifelight fizzed and buzzed within him.
"They agreed to the High Mage's conditions. And he gave them a small fortune. He raised the child as he said he would and we can all see the product of that transaction standing before us today."
No one spoke. Hardly anyone moved. Master Elwith drew in a labored breath.
"What does any of this prove?" he asked. "Even if I have lied about my origins, I have done nothing criminal and Master Oswin has long since gone to the Grand Palaces, so what is the point of this storytelling?"
"I tend to agree with Master Elwith," King Othrad said, reclining back into his seat. "Even if this...hypothetical situation surrounding Master Elwith's origins were true, it can hardly be considered criminal."
Now you speak? Elwith's eyes darted to the king then away. How kind of you.
"Oh, but the story doesn't end there, Your Majesty. Oh, no. For you see Master Elwith's parents kept their side of the agreement. They never attempted even once to contact their child. In the decades that followed, they never so much as sent him a letter."
"Are my parents then on trial?" Master Elwith asked, his voice snapping. A hot scowl scoured his face. The conclusion of this play acting was so apparent to him. But he wouldn't rush to it. Rushing wouldn't help him.
"Lady Telias," said Queen Brishwyn, "unless you have a point to make, I suggest you refrain from this line of interrogation. The giving of lifegold is not illegal when taking a ward or apprentice. Quite the contrary. It is encouraged." She gathered her hands into her lap. "I know that yours and Master Elwith's corroboration has been anything if not strained. I would suggest you not make it any more complicated than is needed."
"Your Majesty," said Lady Telias, "I put to you that nothing I have done has unduly prejudiced Master Elwith to me and my people. I'm afraid because of events in his life almost nothing I do may ever change his mind concerning me and mine." She shook her head. "His parents may not have contacted him, but upon Master Oswin's death, Master Elwith sought out his parents, whether for revenge or reconciliation I do not know."
"Should not a son seek out his parents?" Master Elwith asked. His rough voice drew the she-wight's eyes back to him. "Should not a son render all the respect he can to his dame and sire?"
"Most certainly." She stepped back, raising her hands placatingly. "For humans I am told that is what is good and proper. The very pinnacle of an offspring's duty as I understand. You reconciled with them." She swept her gaze over all present. "As the dutiful son, he honored them, and they with open arms and glad hearts welcomed you back into their home."
Like a man standing on the edge of a cliff preparing to jump, Master Elwith stood, anticipating the plunge in the story. Head down as though peering over the drop, body drooped at the daunting height, eyes fixed on the bottom below.
"But the story doesn't end with such a happy ending, now does it, Master Elwith?" Lady Telias had come up behind him and whispered the words into his ear, but the sibilant syllables hissed throughout the room.
His head came up defiantly. Muscles tensed as if to brace against the expected push.
"No."
"What did happen to your parents, Master Elwith?" The queen's question drew all attention to her concern filled face and then back to the mage who stood fixed to his spot, hands shaking.
"They were killed, Your Majesty."
It took every straining mental constraint to master his roaring, eager lifelight. It tossed and frothed. It blasted outward toward freedom and destruction, in a struggle to break his agent power over himself. That's what power did when cultivated. It submitted and built up the cultivator until it could topple the person, drag the person into folly and disgrace. He could almost hear it singing to him to let it free to lighten the room with a flaming wightie. Sweat rolled down his forehead and he squeezed his eyes shut against the voice that wasn't a voice.
"How did they die, Gannibald?" ask King Othrad, using the High Mage's given name.
"They died," said Master Elwith, voice tremulous, "when a wightie decided it would like to have some sport." He drew in a shuddering breath and reopened his eyes. "They died because a Manu cursed nightling decided it was hungry."
Neither King Othrad or Queen Brishwyn flinched at Master Elwith's cursing. They sat back digesting this new information. Queen Brishwyn's eyes softened, tears threatening to tumble from them. King Othrad's fist beat steadily harder against his throne, a light smacking sound emanating with each hit.
The whispers faded out like an echo in a cave. The king's hand stilled. Queen Brishwyn's eyes hardened back into unreadability.
"That's why you're so prejudiced against any of my kind, isn't it?" asked Lady Telias. Her word ached through the painful silence. "That's why you have never trusted me and have constantly belittled me and degraded my help? Admit it."
"I have reasons for disliking the wights," said Master Elwith, "and what they have become. But that doesn't mean I can't see the benefits of an alliance with you. And you have no proof otherwise." He stood staring forward unflinchingly, though a tremor would shock through his body from time to time.
"Actually, she does have evidence," a clipped voice said.
Master Elwith whirled toward the source.
General Biligrim had risen from his seat and now stood addressing all present. "Your Majesties, with your permission?"
They nodded their assent. He strode out onto the parquet, his heels clicking in smart military time.
General?! The High Mage's eyes narrowed. Traitor.
"What are you doing, General Biligrim?" Master Elwith asked, his words whispered out between barely moving lips.
"What I believe is necessary," the general answered in a low voice. He turned to speak directly to the king and queen. "Some time ago, after we had first opened a dialogue with Lady Telias and her people, I came across Master Elwith in one of the capital's less than reputable pubs. He was extremely inebriated. Even in his state he recognized me and insisted that I join him in his commemoration. When I asked him what we were commemorating, he told me we were honoring the memory of his parents who had been dead a year to the day. Of course, I expressed my surprise at this. I, like most, had always thought him an orphan as he had maintained over the years. When I reminded him of that fact, he simply laughed at me and told me his life story, including the tragic death of his parents."
General Biligrim paused, searching for the right words for the portion of his narrative that remained. Glaring at the younger man, Master Elwith all but heard his lifelight whimper as he crushed its struggle.
"At that point, Master Elwith's mood changed... He became...sullen...darker...almost enraged. He confided in me that he would never trust Lady Telias or any of her kind. Ultimately, he said, when they had outlasted their usefulness, he would kill them all."
None in the gallery spoke. The ceiling's shade had again swung toward a gorier hue. The sovereigns' attention shifted between the three persons that stood before them, bathed in the entrail-red light.
"Is that right, Master Elwith?" Lady Telias asked. "Do you plan on killing all of us?"
First his neck ratcheted over and then his body followed suit. His eyes had become murderously thin slits. He squeezed his lifelight further, solidifying it into a single smoldering mass. Heat radiated off his body and the smell of singeing cloth reached his nose.
"I will not rest until every last one of your filthy breed is wiped off Werold's face."
Pushing his lifelight outward, it bloomed from the palms of his hands, braiding itself into great lengths until handles formed. The whips Master Elwith now held shimmered, forged entirely of blazing lifelight.
He lashed out at Lady Telias, but she leapt away before the whip could connect. The room descended into chaos. People began to scream as he again and again sent his whips' length snapping at the she-wight. They abandoned their seats pressing themselves up against the walls more and more tightly with every pop that sounded out. General Biligrim dashed out of range, calling his men to take up positions around their monarchs. Still Master Elwith whirled about with his weapons, constantly seeking out the creature as she whirled and spun between, over, and around the golden coils.
She smiled. The gleam of her white teeth ripped a yowl from the High Mage's throat.
I'll Work your teeth into a necklace, beastie!
That smile only grew wider and wilder as the she-wight leapt over one whip and immediately upon landing flattened herself to the ground as the other sailed over her, cracking just over her face. Master Elwith redoubled his efforts as, rolling back over her shoulders, Lady Telias launched herself flipping into the air away from him. As her eyes came level with his, arms outstretched, the High Mage shot one of his weapons at the appendage. It wrapped about the she-wight's bare wrist, sizzling along her skin as it constricted. A scream howled from her mouth.
Elwith's eyes brightened. Got you, beastie.
"Someone subdue him!" King Othrad ordered.
The High Mage tugged his flail, drawing Telias from her airy arc to the stone floor with a satisfying thud.
She lay there dazed, shaking her head, a grimace twisted her face and her free hand hesitated over the whip as though it radiated a blistering heat. The High Mage flicked his wrist and the blazing cordage fell away from her burnt skin. Readying his final blow, he stepped up to her as she rolled onto her back.
"Is there anything you'd like to confess to me before you die, Lady Telias?"
She remained silent.
"So be it then," Master Elwith said, readying his whip to come crashing down on her.
Lady Telias' hand darted out, snatching beneath Master Elwith's robe to grab his leg. As soon as her hand gripped his ankle, he faltered, swaying ever so slightly. In an instant, his lifelight floundered. Somehow, he had lost all sense of it, like he reached for it but it sat unreachable behind a thick sheet of slick, murky ice. His scorching whips sputtered, retracting back into his palms. His skin greedily reabsorbed his lifelight.
His eyes wide and wavering found the she-wight's. How?
He began to ask the question aloud. The word cut off as a sharp blow to the back of his head sent him plunging into blackness.
*DON'T FORGET TO VOTE*