Prequel Novella Snippet 3

Chapter: Whispers in the Dark

All of the denizens of the Great Hall had retired shortly after nightfall, so the hallways and corridors were peaceful and quiet, as even the night guards seemed to appreciate the sense of serenity which can only be found in dark silence.

Akantha had been unable to sleep, even after the talk with Olgaya which had brought about its usual calming effect. So she had decided to go for a walk in the Shield Hall since it was thankfully empty of people at this time of night. She desperately needed to find an answer to the question of how to get out of this mess.

She was still furious with her mother for what she considered an open betrayal, but she thought she understood her Hold Mistresses reasons more clearly after speaking with Olgaya. At the time it had seemed to be nothing short of out-and-out betrayal, but Akantha knew that there was wisdom in all of her mother’s actions, and she also knew that her mother wanted what was best for her.

Her bodyguard Persus accompanied her as always. He kept behind her a few steps as they made their way through the corridor toward the Shield Hall, as was protocol. He had been another stabilizing force in Akantha’s life and she had come to value his council when he offered it, which was a rare occurrence.

The standards and banners of the various clans of Argos were displayed in the traditional fashion across the walls and rafters, and even the light from Akantha’s candle was enough to make out their many colors and patterns.

Persus kept his distance, and was careful to avoid looking into the small flame Akantha held in her hands, as doing so would temporarily hinder his vision in the darkness. During the day, torches and sconces lining the room filled it with as much light as was required for the day’s events, but at night the fires were put out to avoid wasting resources.

Akantha eventually found herself standing at the dais where the High Chairs were, and she stopped for a moment to consider what they represented. At that moment, she felt she understood the weight of leadership better than she ever had, even though her entire life had been spent in preparation for ascension to the same rank her mother held. The endless lectures on history, agriculture, engineering and commerce had given her all the knowledge she would need to lead her people in their daily struggles for as many years as she was able. And her experience in the Great Hall of her mother’s people had given her more political savvy she had ever wanted.

She stood there in quiet thought for a few moments before her ears picked up on an unusual murmur of conversation coming from one of the adjoining dining halls. It was very faint, which was why it even registered to her as unusual. It was not entirely uncommon for people to walk about in the middle of the night, but there was rarely a need to keep one’s voice quiet since the sleeping quarters were located far enough away as to not disturb those who rested.

She signaled Persus and he nodded, confirming that he had also heard the conversation, but he shrugged his shoulders as if to say he didn’t know who it was or what they were talking about.

Akantha quietly unslipped her feet from the sandals she wore so as not to make as much noise and doused the candle with a quick puff of air. She then padded toward the dining hall until she could see a flicker of candlelight coming from within. Akantha was almost immediately certain she recognized the slightly cracking voice of the old advisor Nazoraios. She continued approaching until she was also able to recognize the voice of Uncle Nykator.

“My Lord has ever demonstrated the utmost wisdom and cunning, both on the battlefield and in the Great Hall,” came the voice of Nazoraios, and his sycophantic platitudes were almost enough to make Akantha snort out loud, but she reined in her impulse to do so.

“Your simpering may have a place in public, Nazoraios,” said Nykator condescendingly. “But I know what I’ve done as well as what I have yet to do, and the self-serving words of an old man are not why I agreed to meet you here. Be quick with your offering, lest I lose all patience with you.”

“Forgive me, Lord,” Nazoraios said after a short pause, “It was not my intention to offend and as always I will do my utmost to avoid wasting your time. To be blunt I have asked you here, in secret, because I have seen a peculiar star this night, and I believe its meaning cannot be misinterpreted,” the old man continued.

“You brought me from my bedchambers to talk of stars?” Uncle Nykator began coldly. “Old man, you have proven a useful resource in the past, but in recent months I find your council to be increasingly less valuable. Are you so desperate to maintain your position at court that you would speak to me of prophecies scrawled a thousand years ago in the entrails of diseased livestock?” he continued, his hissing voice accompanied by the sound of a small blade being unsheathed.

“I am neither sick nor feeble,” Nazoraios said sharply, “my name is listed on the battle roster and I can still carry a blade into battle. In my younger days I served in the front lines and earned my honors through combat with the enemy! To draw a blade on an unarmed man sworn to your cause-”

There was the sound of a scuffle and a muffled thump, followed by a muffled cry.

“Your days of renown are not only gone and but long gone,” Nykator said coldly, “say something that holds my interest, or I stop holding myself back and cut your meandering tongue out of your lying mouth!”

“My Lord, you may of course do with me as you see fit,” Nazoraios quickly replied, his voice now a dry croak, which suggested that Nykator had a tight grip his throat. “My life has been sworn to yours for longer than even I can recall, and if its best purpose is for you to snuff out my life spark to satisfy honor, then just put a blade in my hand and we can settle this like men,” he said stiffly, his next words came out in a rush, “however and for the moment I would ask that you hear out the ramblings of this old warrior one last time before you strike the final blow that sends me to my grave.”

There was a silent pause, and for a moment Akantha was tempted to get close enough to actually see the scene, but caution won out and she remained quiet and still.

“Out with it then, advisor,” Nykator growled.

Nazoraios made a slight choking sound as he caught his breath, but quickly continued. “The star I have seen is the same one that has been reported at various times in our history. It moves sluggishly against the natural path of the falling stars, and it burns with a green light.” Nazoraios paused, took a deep breath and continued in a quieter voice. “Not only did its course and color demand attention, but it clearly slowed as it approached the ground in the direction of the western farmland. In fact, I believe it fully stopped just before the foot of the mountain which buttresses that edge of our territory.”

Nykator breathed in, a deep hissing sound. The conversation paused for several seconds, and Akantha’s mind raced with the meaning of what Nazoraios said.

“Is there any doubt?” Nykator asked evenly. “Be careful with your next words, Nazoraios. They will decide much of your future.”

“There can be no doubt, my Lord,” Nazoraios quickly replied. “The Sky Demons have returned.”

Akantha felt a lump in her throat. ‘Sky Demons?’ she thought. She had heard stories of them when she was a little girl, but had come to believe they were nothing more than stories or fanciful tales meant to give people boundaries in their lives. If they were real, and if they truly were here, then it would give every soothsayer and self-professed prophet ample excuse to declare these days to be the end times, when all people would be returned to the Stars of Men.

“Name of Men,” Nykator cursed. “How long ago did you last see the star?”

“At first I thought it would pass over the mountain and out of our lands, but I am certain that it came to rest on our side of the pass no more than one hour ago. I only delayed my informing you because of the hour, and I did not want others to learn of this event before you could compose your response,” Nazoraios said stiffly.

“How many others can know of this?” Nykator demanded, his voice rising above a whisper for the first time.

“The watchmen of our signal towers might have seen it, but we cannot be certain,” Nazoraios said after a moment of reflection. “The farmers at the mountain’s base will have seen it, and most certainly have dispatched their emissaries already in search of help. At this time of year, they could arrive at our steps within two days if the weather holds. It would be three days if a storm comes in and the rivers run over.”

Akantha remembered reading about two occasions in the last two hundred years of recorded history when it had been reported that Sky Demons came to the world. The more recent event was widely believed to have been part of an elaborate hoax orchestrated by the rival state of Lyconesia, as they used the sighting of a strange falling star as an opportunity to burn several farm holds and a season’s worth of grain production. The stories spread far and wide, and before anyone could examine the evidence, it seemed the entire world believed it was genuine.

The older event was less well-known. Riders had arrived at the spot where the demons had supposedly made their way into the world, and had found nothing at all. There were no trees, no crops, no buildings and no life of any kind anywhere in the farm hold, when there should have been fields full of newly planted crops and dozens of people, along with their livestock. The written record indicated that the war band dispatched to deal with the threat had found no sign of fire, or any other telltale signs of how everything and everyone had been removed. The leader of the expedition wrote ‘It was as if the sky had opened its maw and swallowed everything which interested it, leaving behind nothing but broken dirt.’ That particular passage had stood out in Akantha’s memory, as it was generally believed to have been the origin of the name her people had given to this phenomenon.

“So if we sent a team now, it would be at least two days before they arrived,” said Nykator slowly. “If we wait for their emissaries to arrive before sending a party, it doubles the delay before our warriors could respond to a minimum of four days. It could be as long as seven days with poor weather, and if there is enough fear to cause extra deliberation at court over the notion of battling nightmares from children’s tales a response might take even longer.”

Nazoraios paused before replying. “Surely my Lord wishes to deal with the threat expediently,” Nazoraios said evenly. “If word were to spread, it could cause months or even years of unrest among the populace if the doomsday seers and prognosticators are allowed to spin their webs of lies and deceit.”

Nykator snorted. “No, we wouldn’t want any old fools running about spinning lies and causing unrest, now would we?” he said derisively. “If this is a real threat and the end times have indeed arrived, there is no need to rush off foolishly to face them. If the Sky Demons are actually the harbingers of the prophesied ending, then a handful of warriors exhausted from a forced march will not be enough to stop their incursion.” He paused for a moment, then continued, “If, on the other hand, this is not the beginning of the end of things, then causing public alarm and panic will serve no one but our very real and very dangerous enemies like the Lyconese.”

“I would caution my Lord against dismissing this threat,” Nazoraios warned. “If there is even a chance that the Sky Demons have returned, then we must prevent word of their arrival from spreading!” The old man’s voice croaked more loudly than it had previously, as he obviously pleaded with his Lord to heed his warning.

“I believe in the threats I can see, and those I can fight,” scoffed Nykator. “What is the sense in worrying about demons and faeries? If they appear on the field of battle, I will crush them as I have crushed all who oppose me. If they do not, then I have more pressing matters to attend.”

“So my Lord will await the arrival of the emissaries, then?” Nazoraios asked with defeat in his voice.

“Yes, old man. We will await the arrival of the emissaries before composing our response” replied Nykator in a threatening tone. “Perhaps your eyes have aged more poorly than the rest of your body, and rather than leading my men in the glorious slaughter of an invading demon army, I will have to content myself with the public execution of one hysterical would be soothsayer instead.”

Akantha heard the footsteps of her uncle as he exited the dining hall, his impromptu meeting apparently concluded, and she made her way quickly to cross the Great Hall as quietly as possible. Persus followed, and they made their way to her chambers as quickly as they could without drawing attention.

This could be the answer she had been looking for.

The Deposed King