Sword from the Sky

Sword from the Sky - Chapter Nine

THE DARK UNWELCOME

 “HAS THE PRINCE PASSED ON?” the woman asked with a harsh voice.

“No, not in the least bit,” the royal guard said, confused as to her motives. “Torum has declared the prince stable for the time being, but he needs rest. May I ask who you are?”

“No need for that,” the muffled voice replied. “I will return soon.”

“I don’t see a problem with that,” the guard said, “as long as he is willing to visit with you.” The man, whose duty was to stand guard outside the prince’s room, seemed wary of the lady’s presence.

“Oh, I’m confident that he’ll have an audience with me,” the lady said as her footsteps were heard first loud and then fading away. “I’ll be coming for everyone soon enough.”

“Strange,” whispered the guard. What did she mean by that?

In the meantime, Druuk, who lay sleeping in his designated room at the royal palace, had already been processing the voices in his mind. He flung his head from side to side, battling the temptation to stay asleep, but there was a need for him to wake up. His unconsciousness could sense things afoot, the foulest things, and he was desperate to make the connection with his waking self.

At last his eyes opened, and he quickly realized he had taken ill and passed out. He recognized his room and that he had been sleeping for hours. Nevertheless, he woke up, and not because he intended to, but because the circumstances called for it.

In his sleep, he recognized that mysterious, womanly voice who inquired about his condition, but as he dreamt and heard the voice, she appeared not as a woman but a beast: tall, inhuman, with dark eyes and long limbs. The beast’s hair bathed against the moon; this thing was no friend to the sun.

He blinked his eyes and scanned the room. The prince’s chamber was located in the north tower of the royal palace, far above the main levels located to the west of the monumental building. Because it was night, the palace was dark, only sprouting a few hints of light throughout various rooms here and there. Druuk’s room had a sturdy lantern sitting atop a table next to the chambers’ spacious window. The room was bare except for a slew of books covering Druuk’s long and ample study desk. But the room was warm, not just in temperature, but in disposition; its character was warm. Druuk kept it that way. Druuk’s strong, virtuous spirit fortified the wellness of the area. He controlled the space around him, seen and unseen.

He sat up. His alert being woke him up for a reason, and now it was time to seek that reason. He closed his eyes and let the wordless movement of the candle come into his mind. Druuk may not have been a Davinian warrior, but he was a master at the discerning of spirits; none other was above him in that respect. He could discern unseen darkness for miles and miles, all around him, from high to low.

Time passed, and what he discerned could terrify the mind of the average person, but not him; he was strong in that manner. The room turned cold; he allowed it to. And his thoughts turned dark; he allowed those as well. From the depths of his being, he reached out into the abyss of space, and there he found strange things; they pricked him, like tiny needles running up and down the length of his back.

Next, he sensed certain noises around him, like clicks popping off in various directions, as if there were people walking around him, but every time he turned to one of the noises, it was as if the noises had left that space, as if he had caught whatever was there just as it was leaving. All of the sudden, his thoughts turned to his son, and he silenced the space around him.

Father! The scream pierced through the depths of his thoughts.

Druuk threw off the blankets, quickly putting on his royal garments. Frantic, he searched around the room for something. He looked up and down his shelves and bookcases, but found nothing, and then he remembered, “Ah, yes!”