The Heartstone Chronicles: Windchaser

Chapter Three

- THREE -

Of men and the dark we know little. Both are unpredictable and hide dangers deep in shadowed bowers. What we do not know, we do not trust. We put no faith in darkness not to spring upon us sudden perils. We put no faith in men not to do the same.

Ancient Undanoi scripture, circa 770 Pre-Cataclysm.

The morning sun rose swiftly, chasing the storm from the skies above Lothos Par. Darkmalian gazed down, watching as the streets below quickly filled. He wondered if people waited with baited breath for the first gloomy light of predawn and then flung themselves out into the world in a race to beat the sunshine to the cobbles; from empty, litter-strewn roads to a hustling, bustling marketplace in less than a quarter of an hour, Lothos Par was awake.

As he leaned out of the window of his small, rented room, the sound of trickling water caught his ear. He looked left to find a small gargoyle sitting just above and to the side of the window frame. Reaching out a cupped hand, he caught the remnants of last night’s rain that ran from its ugly, weather-beaten face and splashed it against his cheeks. Refreshed, he turned to face the new sun.

The aroma of the sea was strong today, carried in on the high wind and flowing east towards Alabaster Row. His sharp eyes could make out the distant spire of the Illuminus Tower, glinting like a diamond needle, proud, imposing. He sighed inwardly as he gazed upon it. He was not relishing the thought of attending the Concordance Summit. Harsh words had been spoken the last time he had been on the Row. Would the words be any less venomous today? He knew they would not; he would never be welcome there. As the morning sun lit his eyes and the cool wind refreshed him, he recalled grimly his last visit to the Greathouse…

‘You are a disgrace!’ Gennen had thundered, his words scything through the air like poisoned daggers. ‘If it were my law to make, you would be cast out!’

‘But it is not your law, Luveer,’ Darkmalian retorted, contempt dripping from his every word. ‘No matter how much you despise me.’

‘The Concordance will vote on it. We will determine whose side you are on, since you cannot make up your own mind. Guilty or not, it will be resolved today, Darkmalian of the House.’

‘Don’t bother yourselves unduly. I will be a ghost to Lothos Par by noon.’

Gennen almost choked, his bronze face flushing even darker, his single eye burning. ‘You think it is that easy? You presume to just walk away? Were you not branded with the sigil of the House you would be dragged before the Concordance Justicar for your actions – the whole city would watch you burn!’

Darkmalian blazed across the room and seized the dru’un by his violet robes, easily lifting him from the ground. ‘Then burn me!’

The two guards stationed outside now rushed into the room, swords drawn. Darkmalian turned his chilling eyes on them and they halted, their weapons apparently offering little comfort. ‘Well?’ he growled.

Gennen seemed calm, even though he hung in Darkmalian’s grip almost a foot from the ground. He ordered the guards back and, unsure, they each took a shuffling step towards the door. Darkmalian turned his gaze back to the dru’un. He felt his anger churning beneath the surface like a coiled serpent in shallow water, but he kept his voice low and steady, regaining his composure with an effort of will. ‘I did what I had to, Luveer. If you had the power in you to have me judged you would have done so by now – so no more empty threats. I will be out of the city before noon – that I promise. I will practice my art elsewhere and you will never have to look upon my face again.’

He released the dru’un and swung for the door, the two guards stumbling to clear him a path. He heard Gennen call after him as he left the chamber. ‘Get you gone from here, Darkmalian of the House. You’ve the Rogue in you. Perhaps you are not at fault – as General Rackyard insists – but if the Wraiths poisoned you with darkened blood then the daemon in you will out. If I see you in my city before this half-decade is up, I will have you burned.’