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All That Is Evil Is Not Dark | Chapter 49 →
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| Chapter 48 |
Delnar descended into the mines with purpose, his communicant’s robes drawn about his shoulders. He had been uneasy for several days now but he could not discern the reason for his distress. Delnar purposefully avoided the mine guards; he was not in the mood for the inevitable round of idle conversation that would arise, often about temple politics or, worse, about when he thought the Brilhado would return. Delnar did not envy Xander his position. Having led his own army of knights, Delnar could well imagine the amount of stress the people's demands placed upon him. As if any in the city knew when the Brilhado would make their return. It was almost as if the people were eager for the dreaded event, had not the brief uprising in the undead populations been sufficient to slake their thirst for pointless slaughter.
Of course, what bothered him most about the questions they asked him was how little answer he really had. The undead had been defeated relatively painlessly on their last excursion. Except for brief mention of the necromancers being spotted, the Brilhado themselves had not been seen. Reports of the Light Demons being seen near the sites of Akriloth's rampage had recently arrived, but they were disjointed and less than comprehensive. The Brilhado described were foot soldiers, hardly the malevolent beauty that so marked the angelic host. That the Brilhado had disappeared so utterly, without a resounding defeat, boded very ill indeed. Somewhere they survived and somewhere they planned menace.
Distracted, Delnar stepped into a particularly dark patch of shadow stuff and was startled by the appearance of movement deep within the shadow. As a new communicant of the Dark Lord, Delnar's eyes were not as attuned to subtle variations in shadow density as those of the longstanding servants, but he was nearly certain he had seen something move from one outcropping to another, something large.
Delnar moved toward the near outcropping slowly, a sense of unease filling him. It was ridiculous that a communicant of the Shadow Lord should be scared of the dark, yet Delnar could not overcome the sense of oppressive dread which clung to him.
"Lord Delnar, are you down there?" a voice called from above and Delnar turned abruptly. He felt uneasy and retreated toward the voice but made a note of his location; he would investigate it later, maybe discuss his concerns with Myr.
"What is it?" Delnar asked, moving into the lit corridor.
"Lord Communicant," the day watch said solemnly, "I regret disturbing your meditations, but a ship has arrived from Deren. A Derenian Knight, dressed in communicant's robes bearing the sigil of the Water Lord, is aboard and he says he has something of yours and a message from the king."
"Where are they now?" Delnar asked, wondering also what knights that Tralin would send directly were servants to the Temple of Water.
"The Temple Antechamber, milord."
"Very well. Send dispatch that I will be there presently. This fellow, did he say his name?"
"Yes, lord. Sir Cerin of the Knights of Deren."
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