4 Chapter 4: Shadows

The prince was dead, the bell rang through the morning to mark his passing. The bell was old, even by the Principalities standards, and it's once pure cast iron shell had turned to rust. The ruin bell the people had begun to call it, a sign of despair. Three times the king had commissioned for it to be replaced and each attempt had failed.

The first failed as the red cough spread into the city, and the blacksmith had to keep himself locked away in fear of the plague.

The second time the funds were raised only to have to be siphoned for ransom. Raiders from the slaver isles had raped and pillaged the lands from Forbes to Kear and bribes were shamefully given to make them leave.

The third and final attempt ended when the blacksmith and his daughter fell from the roof while attempting to remove the ancient bell. There death caused the entire city to believe the bell was cursed. Resigned to keep the bell for now, the king focused on other tasks. The bell was one of seven in the city, and since the last tragedy only used when nobles die or for tragedy.

Such was the state of things that all new it was a day of mourning. The prince was the heir apparent, the next in line barely an adult. The bell wouldn't stop that day, it would continue to ring for three more days.

Sir Olsen had remained seated during each tolling of the bell at his desk, he had been deep in study when he first heard the sound. He knew the Kings son was deathly ill, and knew the source of the affliction. There was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do. His death was all but certain the moment he departed to the blighted land on such a dangerous endeavor.

He was warned, and Olsen remembered the last day before the prince departed. It had been just before the rainy season began. The prince was determined and had asked for only a dozen retainers to follow him. He would put an end to the Craven king, he would find him in the ruined castle of Sar'Kalith.

None had returned except the prince, although few recognized him when his body was discovered. Many surgeons and apothecaries tended to the young lord, so foolish in youth and now so malformed.

Sir Olsen was one of the knights who petitioned to join the princes party, only to be refused. "You're place was here," he had told him, "your day is done, let us seize the glory that rightfully belongs to us." Sir Olsen wondered what the prince would have thought of such words now, as his eyeless and broken body barely grasped for breath. His death was a mercy, and while the nation mourned, many felt relieved that the ghastly wailing from his estate was finally at an end.

The Knight didn't want to think of it any further, the sounds would haunt his dreams enough. He glanced at the table in front of him. The grand stratagem mapped the entire country from the sea to the blighted lands. The two castles and their surrounding cities were detailed down to individual streets while hamlets and townships were only small markers with barely recorded road ways in between.

The forests covered over half the realm, with small markers dotting throughout. One by one each of them had been turned over to represent them being consumed by the blight and the cult of the ingested host. There were fewer than a dozen now where there should have been hundreds. No one in the cities, and even most of the lords, had any understanding of what was going on in the wooded provinces. Only the Knights of the Order of the Scepter knew what the growing threat meant.

"The king is still not leaving his chamber, and I'm afraid there's more bad news." The voice belonged to the Lady Atrisha the high custodian of the Order. She stood taller than himself, her grey hair parted to one side to reveal a noble and narrow face.

Olsen had admired her, and read the grand codex detailing her career. What he never understood about her was how she was still alive. She had mapped the blighted lands all the way to the heart of the old Alar empire, and had crossed swords with the Swallowed Sons. The fact she still lived when so many others had failed to do far less was beyond him.

"Whatever news you have it can wait, I've been waiting for you for days. I need to tell you that I found-" Olsen spoke before being cut off.

"If this is about the elf girl I'm all ears. But you should know that the blight is here." She crossed her arms as she interrupted him, "the deacon blames the elves, but more than likely the deceased Prince is the true culprit."

Olsen froze, his eyes returning to the table. The blight was such a silent thing at first, like a cancer it ate away all life as it grew. His clenched fist had his finger nails digging into his palms.

"Than we've run out of time, we have no choice now," all hope drained from his face, his dark eyes lost in the map before him. He silently reached out to touch the carved marker of the capital on the map. He felt a sudden dread that it too would one day turn over.

"We still have plenty of choices," Atrisha walked to the opposite side of the table. The sound of her chainmail highlighting each step, "First thing we must do is establish a quarantine, and then-"

This time it was Olsen's turn to cut her off, "she can wield the catalyst!"

Atrisha seemed puzzled as she tried to think of who he was talking about. When she did she nearly laughed, "oh you've got to be joking. Have you leave of your senses!"

Olsen stood his ground, "she can, all those who inherit the bloodline can. She might just be the only one left who can wield it."

Atrisha stopped laughing realizing he was serious, she stared at him for a moment as she recollected her composure, "how would she have inherited..." she paused not finishing her own statement. It dawned on her as to how it could be possible. The disgust was clearly visible on her face.

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Meanwhile

Rain laid half naked on her bed, sinking into the soft mattress. It made her back unbearably uncomfortable. Still she refused to get up. The thunder outside only grew making her feel as if the very walls would shake. Static electricity clung to the air making the hair on her arms stand up.

She closed her eyes trying to not think of what Sir Olsen had told her, trying to fade away into an endless dream. She drifted off slowly to sleep, only to immediately awake.

Waking up the room was dark, yet the air was warm. She saw light breaking into the corners of every brick in the wall. Their was silence, complete and surreal silence. It was the first time in her entire life she heard such quiet, and couldn't believe that such a thing could exist. It frightened her.

A shadow moved into the room. Not through the door but through the walls. It seemed to bleed into the room absorbing the darkness and creating a new void that was both part of it and separate.

It had only a loose form, and it towered over her. And then the shadow parted revealing a face, a face that was perfect and beautiful in every way. He was both man and elf and other races she ha never seen before, and his eyes were endless and clear. He looked at her in kindness, his arm reaching out to her in longing.

He then spoke to her without words, and the air shook as he spoke them.

"It shall be yours Rain," as he said her name she felt her heart skip, "It shall all be yours."

His smile seemed crooked for a single Instant, she could smell something in the air that was sweat. But there was something underneath the beautiful face, something unnatural. Before she could discern it she awoke again.

The noise of scuffling feet shook her from the dream. Rain felt suddenly relieved at all the noise. She was covered in sweat, her tongue was dry and her eyes had trouble focusing.

Her door was partially opened. Her blood ran cold as she remembered the shadow that had been with her only moments before. She got up from the bed, covering herself with the bed sheets. She approached the door, her hand slowly reaching out. It was cold as ice.

Opening the door there was no one. As she glanced down she was horrified to find a pair of eyes placed at her doorstep.