A Curse of Shadows (Updates Every Sunday 6.00pm UK Time)

Chapter 5 - Power

His armor was laced with morning dew. Each step caused the soles of his feet to burn. His arms hung heavily by his sides, swinging around like hunks of dead meat. A true warrior knows no pain, the words of the previous captain went through Ivor's thoughts as he beat his fist against the barricaded throne room gates.

"Royal Guard! Open up!"

It took a few minutes for the castle guards on both sides of the gate to comply with the urgent request. Ivor waited impatiently, accompanied by two of his men who looked just as tired and chewed up as Ivor. Rinn was asleep. 

Wedged within the parameters of the crescent-shaped window from where she had watched most of the battle, Rinn's body was balancing on a precarious ledge. She was vaguely aware of some commotion below as Ivor burst into the throne room as soon as the gates opened wide enough for him to fit through.

"My king," he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Rinn jumped. Ripped out of her dreamless slumber, the princess lost her balance and fell. Only by gaining a firm hold of the tapestry below her, was she able to break her fall. The queen screamed in shock as the tapestry ripped, causing Rinn to slide down towards the floor. She landed on her feet right next to Ivor who seemed as shocked as the queen.

"What happened?!" Rinn urged.

Ivor ignored her, turning his attention back to the king. Rinn made no effort to hide her disdain for the scruffy captain.

"My king, the battle is done. The shadows have fled inland!" Ivor bellowed, barely recovered from Rinn's rude interruption.

A ripple of relief went through the room as the king bid Ivor approach.

"You are quite certain, Captain?"

"We watched them leave. Few casualties. Only a handful of men have contracted the darkness. They have been exiled as decreed."

"So, you will just let them die out there alone," Rinn observed. "Figures..."

Although her voice cut like a knife, Ivor barely flinched.

"The shadows will be back," Hakon remarked.

The old healer was seated to the right of the king, ever the trusted advisor. His arthritic fingers were knotted in his lap. He seemed to have shrunk since Keon's burial the day before.

"We have castle guards in lookout positions all around the castle walls. It would be wise to keep the gates firmly shut from now on," Ivor advised.

The king sighed.

"The last frontier...only the gods can help us now. Not long until the first shadow breaches the castle walls; until all this is gone and we are nothing more than dust... and shadows."

"It doesn't have to be."

Rinn's voice echoed through the vast space as she swiftly approached the king. She leaped past Ivor, up the few steps which elevated the king above all who sought his audience. The queen bit her lip in silent outrage.

"Father, you mustn't despair. The ancient knowledge...it's not dead."

The king's eyebrows traveled towards his rugged hairline where the heavy burden of the crown had rubbed away over the years.

"You mean...?"

"The fishermen were singing the ancient burial hymn, yesterday. They knew it. If I could go and speak to them they might be able to tell me more. They might know something about the ancient magic, too."

"A hymn?!"

The queen snarled.

"We are doomed and you come with tales about a hymn?"