The Azimar Archives Book One- The Book of Death

Mothlenor

Mothlenor sat behind his disheveled desk, fingers steepled together and chin resting against the tips. "Areanath, you idiot," he muttered.

It wasn't the 'midnight meditations' that his brother enjoyed so well that angered him, or even the fact that the castle guards had difficulties distinguishing him from his kingly twin at times – though that was annoying – it was his brother's refusal to see the error of his thinking, Areanath's inability to see reason that truly infuriated him.

"Your inaction will kill us all." Mothlenor shifted, drumming the fingers of one hand against the rough wood. The steady tapping usually helped to calm his anger, and had become a habit when thinking about his older brother. "There is danger lurking in every corner, waiting for its chance to strike. And you do nothing." His fingers drummed again. "You claim it is your duty to protect the people, yet you still continue to bend the knee to lesser creatures."

Drum.

"Idiot."

Mothlenor caught a whiff of burning wood, and he pulled his restless hand from the desk with a groan. Looking down, Mothlenor counted four little burn marks where the tips of his fingers had drummed against the wood. There were other burn marks etched into the wood around him, similar to the new ones he had just made. Mothlenor sighed. I continue to let my imbecile brother get the best of my emotions. But not for much longer. Just a few more days... "There is much work to be done." Mothlenor straightened to stand, but stopped when his eye caught a smooth grey orb pinning down a small stack of papers. "But first..."

He plucked the orb from atop the pile. The stone fit neatly into the palm of his hand, cool to the touch. "What a pretty gift you were." He rotated the dragon's eye in his hand, peering at its dark surface. "Let's see what you're really capable of, shall we?" He clutched the stone tighter, pouring his energy into it. It instantly responded to the influx of power, the surface transmuting into a shimmering pool of shifting colors. Mothlenor grinned. What is my foolish brother up to now?

Mothlenor concentrated on his twin, imagining him as he last saw him, and the stone's surface began to change. The swirling colors muted, shifted into place, and were still. An image had formed on the surface of the dragon's eye. Mothlenor lifted the stone closer, digesting the sight. His brother lying in bed, unmoving.

"Hmph." Mothlenor frowned at the sight of Areanath, and let the image melt from the stone. Who else? He thought for a moment, settling himself deeper into his chair. There aren't that many people worth keeping an eye on, it would seem. Perhaps... He concentrated again, this time on his brother's adviser. The stone responded, again the bright colors dimmed and stood still. To Mothlenor's surprise, the young man was awake, bent over a small desk, a book in one hand, a quill in the other. His dark hair was tousled, and he was still in his robes. Mothlenor huffed under his breath, again letting the image drift away. Mothlenor watched as the colors within the stone writhed, almost transfixed.

There was one more...Nevina, that pretty little witch. He had heard whispers that she had returned to Etritia. No doubt to fill the king's head with her lies. She could be a powerful ally, if she could only be turned away from Areanath...

Mothlenor peered into the dragon's eye again, concentrating on her image. In his mind's eye, he could see her thin frame, the white dress all Coven members wore, the long pale hair she rarely wore loose... The curve of her hips, the sound of her voice, the way she almost glided when she walked... But her eyes he had never seen. She had always kept her face hidden from him, from everyone. Except Areanath, he suspected. He continued to linger on her unfinished impression, but the stone would not respond. He tried again, and again the stone refused to reveal anything.

Mothlenor gave up, stemming the tide of energy he had been feeding to the stone. It instantly went dark. He slowly rotated it in his palm, staring at it casually. It was noticeably warmer than it had been only moments ago. "Everything has its limitations, I suppose." He dropped the stone back onto the desk with a sigh. Standing, he turned his back on the orb. "There is still much to be done."