With one last look back at the fortress, and the road to the south where his friends rode swiftly to their fates, Dearg stepped into the caves.
And onto his destiny.
Epilogue
T'kar sat upon his throne, his breathing ragged, and his spirit crushed. Though he had defeated his enemy for the most part, he was badly wounded, and the pain he felt was greater than any he had ever experienced. He felt as if he had been struck by lightning—again—only worse. And it was all at the hands of one single woman. That woman's face was burned into his mind, and his heart quickened whenever he saw it.
He hated her even more than the bastard that stood against him.
"Who was that woman?" he growled at Lilit, who stood nearby.
Lilit went to her scrying bowl, still shaken by being ousted by the Druid. She stirred the surface of the dark water with her finger, closing her eyes as she chanted. T'kar waited impatiently, shifting his weight to relieve some of the pain in his chest.
"I cannot divine her name," Lilit said. "But I feel the presence of Gaia within her."
"A priestess?" T'kar demanded. "I thought I killed all of them."
"You did, Sire," Randar assured him. "I saw it."
"No," Lilit said. "You did not."
T'kar leaned forward, groaning against the pain. "What?"
"The Sisterhood can never be destroyed," Lilit said. "Gaia will rebuild it. Always."
"And she is one of them?"
"Possibly," Lilit said. "I can feel a weak link between her and Gaia; her and one other. There is no Sisterhood as of yet. Whatever it is now can still be destroyed before it even forms."
"Then I want her killed," T'kar said. "I want her head upon my table. And I want her blade broken and melted down into ingots that I can smash her skull with."
The door opened then, and a guard stepped in. There was a dark, cloaked man behind him, tall and thin. Mysterious beyond words.
"Sire," the guard said. "The assassin has finally arrived."
T'kar stood, looking in awe at the dark figure who stepped forward and bowed his head. He glanced over at Randar, whose head was cocked—probably in admiration, T'kar lamented.
"Show yourself," he said.
As the guard left, the dark stranger lowered his cowl. Though his face was still turned downward, T'kar could see that his countenance was dark. Through the opening in the front of his cloak, the pommels of two blades were visible, each of them made of silver, and carved into the likeness of serpents.
The assassin raised his head and met T'kar's gaze. His eyes, deep-set and somewhat angled, were cold blue, and his hair was long and black, the bangs tied back behind his head. His skin was darker than a man of Eirenoch, and his features were chiseled and angular, like an Alvar. But he knew this man was human, only much more powerful and deadly.
He was impressive.
"Greetings, King T'kar," the man said, his voice smooth and deep. "I have come at your beckoning from the Kingdom of Thyre."
"You were sent by Kathorgo?" T'kar said.
"I was summoned by Kathorgo's right hand," the man said. "I have come to serve you at his request."
"What is your name?" T'kar asked.
The assassin smiled, leaning his head back to gaze at T'kar with those deadly-looking eyes.
"I am Erenoth," the man said. "Master Assassin of the Brotherhood of Kalos."
About the Author
Shawn is a web designer and artist who lives in the rolling hills of Brown County, Indiana. In his spare time, he likes to repair and build guitars, go hiking in his woods, and watch movies with his best friend and life partner, Lisa. They have a dog, three cats, and a giant family of woodland creatures that hide and play in the forest. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, there are no ogres, fomorians, or goblins anywhere.
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