Manifestation: the Coming Dark/Chapter 6

Plans for the party went by smoothly. After making several inquires with Jano's aid, I was able to obtain the services of a caterer and troupes of both musicians and actor/storytellers. Jano encouraged me to spare little expense on the party and though I originally felt some concern about such a brazen display of wealth, Jano assured me that it was as much a display of largess as of wealth. The party was as much for the Kruatha'ri as for the queen.

I spent the better part of the day sampling delicacies from all over the world and settling on a wide canvas of varying food and beverages for the party menu. I must confess that by day's end I was rather inebriated, and so my later selections may have been marred by a less-than-acute sense of taste. Still, I was reasonably sure that my selections would offer something for a wide variety of tastes. Some of the food and drink offered would be both foreign and wondrous to the Drakel, being delicacies from both Deren and my own homeland of Vandar; I hoped that this would highlight the positive aspects of cultural exchange.

Even as I actively planned for the queen's departure, I learned that Tralin prepared for her arrival with festivities of his own. Even before the queen would leave the K'eld, the whole of the city of Deren would be transformed into a large midsummer festival. Artists and vendors from far and wide were set to travel to the city to hawk their wares and ply their trades. At the festival's center, Lady Kithia would arrive from her long journey from the K'eld. The rise of Tralin as king of City and K'eld was being pushed as a reason for celebration even in light of the darkness that hung ever close. I had nearly managed to forget the nature of that darkness, but the party would put an end to that sense of ease.

"Good evening," I said, turning to face the Drakel who entered; he was an elite guard, one of the Armored Warriors.

"Lord Governor, I fear the evening is anything but good," he responded seriously. "We have just arrested a number of Kruatha'ri; they were accosting a youth from one of the outer villages, a De'me'thar."

"I see," I said, beginning to feel my anger rise. Though Jano and Kithia had warned of these continuing tensions, the escalation not only on the night of the queen's party but also on the grounds of my estate filled me with a sense of bitterness. I turned abruptly from one of my guests and began to move with purpose toward the holding rooms.

Jano, on seeing my movement, frowned. "My lord, it would not do for you to leave your own party for the queen."

I fixed Jano with a scathing glare of the sort I had not used since I had come to serve the throne.

"I know my job, T'palo! Has not the king sent me with his trust to care for his subjects? Should the protocol of heritage overwhelm such concerns?!"

Jano withdrew then, taken aback by my vehemence; I fear then he saw something of the old zealotry that so possessed me. Yet I felt no remorse, only purposefulness.

As I made to leave the estate, I was stopped by a courier. I held my anger in careful check.

"What is it?" I asked curtly.

"Esteemed governor, I bring news of the arrival of the T'palo of K'eld Alorin."

I let out a sigh of frustration, for to deny the presence of a T'palo from another city was to deny the entirety of Drakel culture. I did not yet know that within a few moments I would be declaring the death of that culture anyway.

"Where is he?" I asked.

"My lord," the courier answered, "he is in the arrival chamber, as custom dictates."

"Very well, fetch Lord Jano and the queen."

"Yes, my lord."

I turned then toward the carts to be carried to the arrival chamber. I knew that the arrival of a foreign T'palo had to be taken with the utmost caution. His arrival could mark an overture of peace or the beginnings of a drive toward war. The last thing that the kingdom needed in light of the Devourer's plan was another war.

Jano and Kithia arrived just as the cart prepared for departure and I felt some sense of relief that I would not have to deal with the T'palo on my own. The delicacy of such negotiations was far more Jano's experience then mine. Diplomacy is a game for those of gentle touch, and none could describe my methods as gentle.

"Tell me about K'eld Alorin," I asked. "What are the Drakel like there? What is their likely reason for this meeting?"

"Alorin is a walled city in the reaches of the Dark Mont Range, in your own nation of Vandar. The city is nestled within the high walls of the Cliffs of Despair, almost directly opposite the Range from Stone Deep. The only known way in and out of Alorin is by magic. The Alorin Drakel were once disaffected De'me'thar who gathered from the K'eld Childea in the Gray Forest in Neld. They withdrew because of their own ideas about the way to defeat the Uncreator fell outside accepted doctrine. Even more so than any other K'eld, Alorin has lived in isolation. Even we know little of them; as De'me'thar that strove to break the ancient custom, they would have been put down except for their extreme inaccessibility even to us. So we merely cut off communication. No T'palo has been sent to or come from Alorin in 3200 years."

"So their arrival can be about anything. Why should they now respond to the king's message when all of the Kruatha'ri remain silent?"

"The Alorin are expert at combinatorial magic. Tralin has been in communication with one of their schools for some time. It is likely that they have arrived due to their personal friendship with the king."

"So I need not wonder what darkness befalls us now?"

"On The contrary, you must indeed wonder. If something some pressing on their friendship with Tralin causes the Alorin to come, why are they not going to Deren? No, the meaning of their coming suggests many dark imports. Now the cart has come to rest, I suggest we determine the T'palo's purpose here."

I moved into the walls of the arrival chamber and was shocked to find a young dwarf dressed not in dwarven armor but in flowing robes. I was even more surprised to see that at his side was Nel, the king's childhood friend, a rather singular Moglin whose arm was rather fully clothed in the feathered serpent of luck, the Noata.

"Nel?" I asked, confused. "I thought that you had gone to Battleon to meet your cousin."

"Lord Governor, I did start toward Battleon, but I never made it there. When the ship stopped in Stone Deep, I was waylaid by the Dark Mont Dwarves. They insisted I accompany them to K'eld Alorin and I went."

"What? Why? How?" I said, astonished. "And why have you come here now instead of to Tralin?"

"I stopped in Deren to check on the king but could not approach due to the throngs at the festival. It does not matter; the T'palo's destination was always K'eld Ner. I have guided him here."

I was taken by the formality of the Moglin's tone; absent entirely was the youth and amusement that so dominated his conversation in the past. I turned and looked again at the dwarf clothed as mage and priest.

"Tal Li Vago," he said, bowing to the three of us. "Lord Governor, fellow journeyman, Lady Kithia, Queen."

"Tal Li Vago," we echoed in turn.

"I am Sigarin, T'palo of K'eld Alorin to K'eld Ner, and I come with grave news, Lord Governor. We have discovered evidence in Alorin of the Uncreator's plan, and we fear it involves not only K'eld Ner and the nation of Deren, but that also the life of your king may be in grave peril."

"The king's life in danger? By all means, speak on. If you know something, reveal it to us."

"Alorin is, as you may know, in the Vandarian mountains. We share the Dark Mont with the dwarves of Shadowgarden and the humans at Stone Deep. For centuries, the dwarves have served as our courier to the humans and vice versa; our T'palo have often, like myself, been of at least partially dwarven descent. The dwarves discovered a collapse in one of their stone mines about two months ago. Excavation discovered that there was a crossover in the deep from one of Stone Deep's shadow mines, a shaft that was supposedly abandoned but instead had been expanded considerably. We have come to believe it was here that Drakath waited while he still hid in Vandar."

As he spoke, I became aware of distant shouting and clashing, but I refused to allow myself to be distracted.

"Well, we know how Drakath had housed himself in the mountains. Yet he is dead now, or undead to believe reports, how does this bear upon the King?" I asked somewhat impatiently. While I could understand the need for exposition, the nature of his message was such that I wished he would come quickly to its point. Further, there was building evidence of some kind of altercation in the distance and I was certain that it could mean only further trouble.

Sigarin reached deep within the folds of his robes and withdrew a sigil of the Shadow Lord on a long golden chain. I could tell even at a distance that the workmanship was superb. I knew from experience that such things were generally only gifted to the chief high communicant of a temple upon their consecration. The sound of trouble grew closer now and I turned to Jano, impatient. "Lord T'palo, would you determine the cause of this rude interruption?"

"My lord," he said, and he bowed and withdrew.

Sigarin handed the amulet to me and I was forced to revise my prior assessment. The age and quality of this amulet were such that it qualified as a holy relic of the church. Such items were held in deep regard and were rarely in the hands of anyone less than regional archcommunicants.

"This was found in the depths of the rubble, my lord, well beyond the end of the shadow mines themselves," Sigarin continued. "You will note its quality, I am sure. What you likely cannot see as a communicant to the Water Lord is its inscription in the shadowscript. We have several Shadow Magi in Alorin, however, and they discovered it quickly."

"May I see it?" the queen asked, and I handed the amulet to her. She murmured a few words under her breath and a soft light suffused the amulet in all but a few places. The places where the light could not reach formed an elegant flowing script, whose language was unfamiliar to me.

"What it says is: Given to Myr of Stone Deep, Senior Communicant, in love and joy ever, Sir Xander."

"Have you verified its authenticity?" I asked then, concerned.

"I have, lord," Nel responded. "Lord Xander confirms procuring this as an anniversary gift for Myr right before the war between Vandar and Neld. Myr was first in the running for the national communicancy in Vandar before the role. He rejected the position himself just recently when he came to Deren. Myr never reported the amulet stolen or missing..."

"If you are familiar with Drakath, you are familiar also with the Cold, his peculiar ability to take the life of a person while they still live. A singularly unpleasant and contagious way of stealing minds, if detected quickly it can be reversed. Though we know now that several of the Brilhado also possess the ability in a much more virulent form that evades even our best efforts to undo," the dwarf said sadly.

"Several of the mine workers fell under Drakath's control," Nel added. "It took considerable effort to free them. What we know also is that Myr himself spent much quiet time in the deep shadows in contemplation."

"You believe that Myr has been taken by Drakath?" I said.

"We do not believe it, my lord. From evidence we have been able to gather in Stone Deep, we are certain of it..." Sigarin answered. "And even now, Myr sits in council as an adviser and close friend to your king."

I was about to ask more about their evidence when Jano returned, clearly out of breath.

"Lord Governor, my queen, you must come at once."

"What is it?" I asked. "What is more important than a threat to King Tralin's life?"

"It is the De'me'thar. They have seized the central armory."