The young upstart wanted to return the stones to the Moondial and he could not allow that. However, the child wanted to track down the other stones and that was something Fell did approve of. Why send his agents to do what the youth would do on his own volition?
He could not leave Demeter without other stones, he had to consolidate his control. Despite his virtual domination of Demeter, there were still some who defied him. There was resistance to his dominance, the Trekkers and others still led an uprising, and they were proving an irritation. Sometimes more than an irritation! He did need to be present to quash it and he could not leave it to others. They had already shown their incompetence.
'No!' he thought, 'I can afford to wait and let the boy and his companions locate the stones for me. I have all the time in the worlds.'
He sat back, held his head in his hands, arms resting on the table. He looked away from the crystal ball and sighed.
'All the time in the worlds!'
He rather liked that. In fact, he was in a rather good mood. Things were going in a way that pleased him.
'Now for some sport!' he thought.
Sweeping out of his chamber, he took the many steps down to the bowels of the tower and entered the dungeon. Most were dark and pitiless, but this one was lit by a large jolly fire, but the fire was not for the benefit of the occupant. No, the resident was Fell Craven's, one of his Arnn Riders. There were issues to sort out and despite him being in a good mood, mercy was not an option.
The rider looked a very different creature without its armour and without its steed. The aura of authority that he had exuded, when astride his beast, carrying out Fell Craven's orders, was now missing. Hanging by shackles, his skinless physique looked pitiful and vulnerable. A mass of red muscle and sinews glistened in the firelight. He wore no crown now, carried no orb and gone was any sense of power.
"Lord, I did not fail you! The boy was unknown. The fae and the stone were there in the glade. We found them, but others were involved."
"Hush now." Fell soothed the manacled rider. "I know you did your best. I gave you the means to carry out the task and you failed! But that does not matter now. I will have two stones as a consequence, so your setback is for the best. I feel grateful to you."
"Thank you, master. You know I will never fail you again!"
"I know you won't!"
Fell walked over to the fire leaving the rider. He reached down into the blaze and his bare hand entered the furnace without sign of injury or pain. He drew out a blade, white hot in his hand. He held it up to his face. His balding pate glistened with sweat and he smiled and casually walked back over to the rider.
"Master! Master! I will never fail you again!"
"That is very true and luckily for you I am feeling in a very good mood."
He held the rider's chin up in his free hand, looked lovingly into the rider's beseeching eyes, stroked his cheek and nodded.
Still smiling, Fell Craven plunged the white hot metal into the throat of the rider and it emerged through the back of his neck. The figure tensed, his chest lifted, agony straining him against the bonds and then he suddenly went limp. The only sound was a gurgling hiss and the rattle of the chains. There was no cry from the victim, but a smell of roast meat filled the chamber. Still smiling, Fell withdrew the blade and returned it to the fire. He wiped his brow with a handkerchief.
"That reminds me, time for dinner," he said to the now dead rider.
Fell left the room, smiling to himself. 'Yes, he was in a particularly good mood. The rider could thank his lucky stars that was so. Death can be such a long and tedious business. Oh well, dinner calls.' Climbing back up the stairs to his chamber, he thought about the choice for the new rider. There were always plenty willing to take the role. However, if they knew what the process entailed, then maybe there would be less. Fell smiled to himself. It almost amazed him what men will do for power, but then again it didn't. Men had a propensity to evil. All they needed was a little nudge.
****
Gorn, Selena and the remaining once-wolves arrived at their destination through the gate. Gorn's missing hand still felt as if it was still there. The ghost hand was in agony, but he had stemmed the flow of blood by cauterising the stump. He still had power, diminished as it was, and he was still an accomplished mage. He could still practise his arts, but they might require more time, but time he had. Time to plot revenge on Peter Calender and his comrades. This was but a setback.
****
Constant had just finished his briefing with the smith. Events were happening far faster than they could come to terms with. Peter Calender was proving more of an enigma with each passing day. He was a wild card! It appeared that the fate of the seven worlds was in the hands of a boy and a ragged group of companions. Time would see what the future would bring. The loosening of the laws was making it harder for the watchers to predict outcomes. Their credence of being observers was now changing. Despite what the smith claimed, he had become involved. For good or for ill, their neutral stance had been shaken. Constant had been offered a stone. He had barely managed to resist the temptation. He had been true to his name on this occasion, but he was unsure what the outcome would be if he were tested again.
The Moonchild (The Moondial Book 1) Page 18