Shadelings

chapter eight

Master

“Master.”

I look up from the papers scattered across my desk. A dark shadow looms in the doorway across the room.

“Come in,” I say. I am unsure who is reporting to me; since moving base to the ruins in Vahk'antarr, the lack of electric light has played on my poor eyes. Moving base is often crucial. Being spread out, even more so. The riders at Evercrest cannot know what is coming, not until we are strong enough.

“I have something to report.” The shadow steps into the dim, single candle lighting in the small, musty room. Her. The youngest of the New Rebellion. She's not a necromancer, but she is one of the most important pawns in the game. I set my recent plans aside and nod at her to continue.

“Ashlyn has been accepted into Evercrest,” she says in a monotone. “She is now an eraser under the apprenticeship of Constance Dreamweaver.”

Ashlyn is Dreamweaver's apprentice? I nod slowly, mulling it over. This is better than I anticipated. I can kill two dragons with a single arrow if I play this right. I hadn't anticipated that Ashlyn would choose the erasers. And now she's Dreamweaver's apprentice.

“This is most helpful,” I say after a moment of contemplation. “Were you accepted?”

“Yes.”

“Which class?”

“Erasers.”

How she had managed to get away from Evercrest is none of my concern. Everything can fall into place much quicker now, but we cannot move yet. I do not know enough about my enemies, but this—I glance over at my spy—this is perfect. I can use her for information. How to debilitate Dreamweaver? How to use Ashlyn? But what if?

There will be no what ifs.

“I want you to befriend Ashlyn,” I begin. “Use her to learn more about Dreamweaver. That woman is our main threat. We need to know how to bring her down. I will deal with Ashlyn. Report back a day before the dragons are called. You are dismissed.”

She remains. "One more thing. There's a demon by the name of Noah Dramirus that appears to be close to Constance. We might be able to use this against her."

Interesting.

“Learn more about this Noah as well, then,” I say. “Learn his schedule. Do you have anything else to report?”

“No, Master.”

“You are dismissed.”

She nods and leaves. I pull a blank sheet of paper from the stack on my desk and a red pen, then write down what the spy told me. While her report is helpful, it is not of the utmost importance. I shuffle through the papers on my desk, pulling an ancient map of the ruins we currently inhabit from the mess. Many of the passageways and rooms have since collapsed from roots growing through the ceiling, but the map is still useful. The Shade may very well be here, and if it is, then the plan can be put into full-swing. So far, those who have stumbled across our operations have been detained. This is simply too risky; one may find a means to escape, and the rebellion would be delayed by years. The sooner the Shade is found, the less we have need to worry about our prisoners.

Blue lines mark where my workers have explored, and the map is covered in them. Four hallways are left untouched, but the workers have orders to explore them today. Perhaps something will come of it. I push my reading glasses back up to my eyes and begin looking over ancient documents my workers have unearthed. Every one of them is written in Polturranean. The language itself poses no challenge, but the sheer number of documents found is daunting. Aside from the papers scattered across my desk, the more fragile of the finds are piled in two giant stacks on the floor behind me.