The Memory of Darkness (on hold until October)

12 - The Messenger

If Arianna had ever had a more troubled night than the one she had just experienced, she couldn't recall it, and was thankful for that. Coren's information had been alarming to say the least, but was far-fetched to the point of being almost unbelievable.

Almost.

A necromancer. An undead necromancer at that. One who had murdered most of the population of a village for reasons unknown. A man who was supposedly unable to set foot on consecrated ground, hence her swift arrival at the castle's chapel.

It was quickly ascertained that the castle Chaplain's living accommodation was part of the consecrated site. There was no proof that holy ground was any kind of barrier to Lorcan. There was only the word of Coren's source, but it was enough to persuade her brothers that she should remain in the chapel until a better long-term solution could be found. Hence, she found herself the guest of the rather bewildered Priest and his unimpressed wife.

Their accommodation was generous and well appointed, and she had been given a guest room. It had been suggested that the Priest and his family be moved elsewhere, which was still an option, but for now they had been allowed to remain in their own home.

A selection of her clothing had been moved from her original chamber, and currently sat in a pile in a corner. The cloak that Lorcan had given her had been discarded on top of the pile. Thankfully, nobody had noticed that it wasn't the cloak she had been wearing when she had arrived in Kyrvell.

She sat on the bed, staring at the mass of black cloth, wondering how he had managed to completely hide his face. It was admittedly trivial in the grand scheme things, but curiosity soon got the better of her

Positioning herself before a small mirror nailed to the wall, she draped the cloak over her shoulders, before pulling the hood over her head. She gave an involuntary shriek at her reflection, before quickly removing the hood.

"Interesting," she remarked, steeling herself to try again. As soon as the hood was over her head, her reflected face once again vanished into complete darkness. She raised a hand to touch her face, finding that her features were still present, but cloaked in inky blackness. "Magical clothing," she observed. "The enchanted cloak of an undead necromancer. Black. Not terribly imaginative, Lorcan."

She flinched at the sound of his name on her lips, glancing around as if expecting him to be summoned by it. There was nothing. Of course, there was nothing. This was holy ground, and it was important for her to believe that this meant something.

With a shiver, Arianna removed the cloak and returned it to the pile of clothing. No sooner had she done so when she was startled by a knock at the door. "Who is it?" she asked, hoping that her voice didn't reveal her nerves.

"I am Katameena, Destroyer of Old Hegrapur and Queen of the Bloodstained Horde!" Sebastian's voice, raised to an absurd falsetto, reached her ears from beyond the door.

"That's marvellous," said Arianna, with a weak smile. "What brings you to Seltiria?"

"Ships!" squeaked Sebastian. "Obviously! Now I demand a tribute, or at least that you open the door because this voice hurts my throat."

Arianna chuckled, appreciating his attempts to amuse her, even a little. "Very well, Destroyer Queen, you may enter." She unlocked the door and pulled it open. "By the Gods, Katameena, I did not expect you to be quite so hairy."

"Neither did my last three husbands," quipped Sebastian, as he entered the room. He coughed, and tapped at his throat. "But enough about them," he said, his voice returned to its usual pitch. "How are you this morning?"

"I've been better," she admitted, feeling her cheeks flush a little as Coren followed Sebastian into the room, clad in his usual Telvarel Guards armour, seemingly returned to normal duties.