Dark Tide Rising (Book 1 of The Bright Eyes Trilogy)

by J. M. Rojas

CHAPTER 16: A FEAST FOR KINGS

  Jack stood next to Will in front of the large ornate bronze-framed mirror like they were brothers or best men before a wedding. The blonde-haired man grinned at the awkward look on the half-Atlantean's face as he pawed at the silvery gossamer cloak that clung to his shoulders. They were clasped under the weight of shell-shaped shoulder guards of pearl hue, and linked across his chest by a thin gold chain. The cloak shimmered like silver thread; but its texture was sticky and extremely elastic. When Jack pinched and pulled the cloak, then let go, the organic-looking substance sprung back into shape.

  “Lindil, or sea-web,” Will said, fixing the chain evenly between Jack's shoulder plates. “A deep sea plant that is harvested for clothing, drapes, and banners amongst other things. Valued above the finest Osirian silks. Layla sewed these herself. She won't be with us tonight, though. Mathias has sent her into the city to sort out some tasks for our preparation to leave tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” Jack replied with some disappointment. He wanted to have her close tonight, during the feast. She seemed to be the only one he felt relaxed around; who could help explain certain customs, when they were needed, and ease them into any introductions he might have to face. Focusing on his image in the mirror, he blinked the anxiety away. You'll be okay. She wouldn't like it if I was needy, anyway. That thought surprised him. Jack smiled nervously, then nodded to Will to show him he understood, and wasn't upset about Layla's absence.

  Turning from side to side, Jack inspected the garment, which swished elegantly like silk and did not bounce or wobble as he expected. “It is quite flamboyant,” he said with a small laugh.

  “Yes, these are ceremonial garbs.” Will holstered his glaive inside an ornate sheath that resembled a mythical mermaid with outstretched arms above her head, and fastened it to his belt. “Oreus demands we follow the custom of Atlantis. Hy-Bresail is less outrageous in our honorary dinners.”

  “They are sure making a big fuss about our visit,” Jack said, pulling at the sea-web again to amuse his curiosity. “Do they really believe we can do it? Destroy the Crown of Dreams, I mean.”

  Will's smile evened into a thin line. After a thoughtful pause, he said, “They all have hope that we will. All Lemurians want to return to our lost time. Walk along the shores of Avalon and Atlantis. Trek the mountains of Nysa, or ride across the vast grasslands of my home country. We all want this mission to succeed.

  There appeared to be a solemness to his words, which surprised Jack. Will was always in high spirits; rarely serious or reflective. His words meant more to Jack because of this fact.

  “The Crown must be unmade for all our futures to exist.”

  Jack turned back to his reflection in the mirror and raised a hand to the bump on his left temple. The blow that Ramose had used to knock him out cold only several hours ago. He touched it delicately, and winced.

  “I believe we have a good chance,” Jack said, an unexpected confidence in his voice. “With whatever is buried in my memories, whatever dad left there, we will find this powerful artefact... and destroy it. Destroy it before Kaelan can get his hands on it.”

  “I hope you're right,” Will said, his smile peeling back again; but the deep contemplation in his eyes remained. “For all our sakes.”

  Jack seemed to have wandered into a dream.

  The Hall of Feasts was a hall with a heigh ceiling which seemed just as big as the Inner Sanctum—perhaps bigger. White marble Atlantean statues—some missing limbs, but all covered in webs of fine cracks—stood forlornly in each corner, leaning on golden tridents at the base of little flower gardens. Blue ashur and white aeli-kah. The mood of chamber however was one of celebration.

  From a large gathering of Lemurians at a long gloam-wood table in the centre of the hall, voices laughed, shouted and sung in various languages and tones; some shrill as birds and some as deep as thunder. Their words wove between each other, competing to be heard over the din, and Jack could understand them all for some bizarre reason. He surmised it was a gift from his father's armour, imbued along with his new found fighting-memories he had acquired.

  The racial qualities of the Lemurians were quite diverse and distinctive. The song-like language came from the tall, silver-haired Atlanteans with blue and grey eyes, who were more numerous in the room. Their tall postures and piercing gazes signified a strong and noble people. Jack's skin went to goosebumps thinking that their blood ran through his veins as well.

  Tan-skinned, blonde haired folk were Hy-Bresailian. No mistaking Will's people, he thought. Their rolling-tongued speech echoed something from Western Europe. Tall too, but the men had broader chests and thicker limbs that were use to hard labour.

  A group of pale-skinned, dark haired Nysaeans sat apart from most of the crowd, with their charcoal eyes seemingly absorbing the light around them. They looked sinister and unwelcoming in their clumped shadows; however soft laughter and occasional embraces were a glimpse of their seldom seen humanity. Jack thought of Cloak and wondered if he would ever show that side.

  The Thulese with their fiery red hair and green eyes were sparse in number. Loud and beautiful, with exotic jewellery of colourful stones and feathers draping from their ears and necks. However, their beauty seemed pale in comparison to the Avalonians, who were also green-eyed, but smaller in frame and with dark brown hair. Their men had hard jaws that contradicted their frames, suggesting a hidden strength, and the women seemed ever alert, not letting the movements of the crowd—no matter how trivial—go unobserved.

  Men and women from Argadnel were darker of skin and favoured short hair or shaved heads. They were strong like the Hy-Bresailians as well and a couple wore strange gold bands on their arms and legs and symbols on their brows, which Jack had heard were called vis-vereth or 'strength givers'. These ones were supposedly called Kratoth Knights, a Lemurian order who were ranked high in the Library's army. Supposedly the vis-vereth gave the wearer heighten strength, allowing them to perform incredible feats. Although Jack had not seen either of the two Kratoth use their strength, from the silent confidence on each of their faces he did not doubt it was there.

  Hyperboreans were a big bear-like people, with snow-white hair and girths wider than any of the others. The men—whom Jack thought looked like Vikings—wore big thick beards and moustaches, and their fingers were covered in bone-carved rings. Sparkling blue eyes glistened over round cheeks, and deep voices boomed like canon-fire. They seemed the rowdiest of the group, challenging even the Thulese in their verbal clamour.

  Aeaeans were related to Atlanteans and Hy-Bresailians, but their skin were a stony grey, which made them appear like statues. Will had told him when they passed an Aeaean in the hall that the grey was from a mystical dust they covered themselves in from head to toe. A religious symbol of purification and long-life. It was said that it allowed them to understand animal speech and communicate with the earth.

  Vlaenderenians were related to Avalonians and Thulese, but had minds for technology. They wore belts ringed in tools and gadgets, and spoke quickly as if they were in a hurry. Those in the Hall of Feasts flitted from crowd to crowd like skittish deer in the wild, interacting with the other Lemurians, chatting fervently and enquiring about things Jack could not hear or understand. Always enquiring. He swore he heard more questions from the Vlaenderenians than answers.

  Argyreans were people similar to Atlanteans in all regards, expect they were “fascinated with the stars”, Will had said. Jack saw a large group near one of the Atlantean statues, using a strange hand-sign language accompanied by words. Their garments were blue and covered in star patterns, and their eyes seemed far away. Their silver hair shimmered like the stars on their garments, and they spoke of the constellations, the world's weather, and the advances in science that Modern man had achieved. The Vlaenderenians enjoyed speaking with the Argyreans most, Jack could tell. Questioners and answerers, Jack thought, smiling to himself.

  Gloam dust illuminated large spherical lanterns made of t
hin glass, which hung from brackets on the walls, bathing the chamber in a warm orange light. Large, colourful feathers from birds that might have been peacocks or perhaps their ancient ancestors curled out of tall ornate vases on the table, among the numerous urns, plates, platters and cutlery. The food and beverages themselves were something else.

  Two rows of long silver platters spanned the length of the table like train tracks, displaying a beautifully coloured array of foods; all cooked in the tradition of the Ten Kingdoms. Each platter had four wells along its rectangular length, containing stews and leafy salads. There were also meats drenched in pools of exotic sauces; some amber like honey, yellow like mustard, white like milk, or dark earthy brown. Chicken or beef, Jack assumed bobbed in the unknown stews. In the centre of the two rows of platters sat large glass bowls filled with what appeared to be punch—bright citrus coloured liquids, bubbling furiously while sediments of fruit floated about—some of which were filtered through a labyrinth of glass tubes, like the glassware of a science lab.

  The teenager, mouth-agape, stumbled passed Will who was locked in pleasantries with two pretty, giggling Avalonian girls, and walked up behind the high-backed seat of Mathias. The wood was carved in the shape of two dragons facing each other with claws locked and tails entwined. He was about to say something to the general when a voice suddenly began to sing in a high pitched note further down the table, catching Jack's attention. Turning, he spied a curly haired, young lord holding the note, whilst his adam's apple quivered in his throat like an olive that refused to be swallowed. Then, as if out of nowhere, a piece of fruit landed into his hand. Everyone at the table cheered, and he began to eat the strange yellow fruit with an eager grin.

  “Osirian Singing Bowl,” Will whispered in the teenager's ear, causing him to jump. The young man had had his fun and broken away from the girls to hover over Jack's shoulder. “You simply set the melody—” he walked over to the table and reached out, grabbing a little leaver attached to a bronze ring at the base of a large white bowl, and turned it away from him, “—like this: la, la-la, la, la!” The bowl seemed to vibrate softly, and Will's voice echoed back from out of the top. It sounded tinny and muffled, but assuredly him. “Now watch.” He hummed the little melody again, holding the last note, and the bowl vibrated a little more. Then a bronze ring around the lip of the bowl spun around its circumference until an etching of an eye was facing Will's direction. Out of the bowl flew another yellow piece of fruit. Catching it in his left hand, he kept the note ringing, and a second piece flew into his right hand—this one purple and bell-shaped.

  The crowd cheered and clapped. Will winked and tossed the purple fruit to Jack, who gave it the once over before braving a bite. It was sweet and tasted like strawberry jam, he thought.

  Welcome, Jack, Mathias said in his mind, not turning to face the teenager. Enjoy the feast. Mingle, but watch your tongue. Remember what I told you.

  Jack nodded to the back of Mathias head. I promise. Mum's the word—erm, I mean, not a soul.

  The general's seat was at the opposite end of the table to Oreus', whose chair had a higher back of white wood, which swirled and twirled in organic shapes, reaching up to a blossom of ashur flowers three feet above his head. Precious stones were fitted into carved nooks in the framework, and the seat's cushions were padded in splendid fabrics of deep sea blue, turquoise and green. Both armrests ended in lion claws, each holding large emeralds, barely visible under the drape of Oreus' hands.

  Oreusʼ children—Rykar, Vesphaeon and Eleena—sat on his right side, talking among themselves in what appeared to be a serious debate. Rykar lifted his head from a conversation with Eleena, and locked eyes with Jack. There was an unwelcoming and threatening look in his eyes, and his jaw seemed tense as if he was grinding his teeth. Vesphaeon lifted a hand to touch his brother's shoulder, and the bigger man pulled away from it. Saying something to his father, inaudible under the din of the crowd, with his eyes still on Jack, Rykar leaped to his feet and stormed off. Pushing his way through the groups of people, he quickly exited the Hall of Feasts, giving Jack one last dreadful stare.

  Some of the crowd looked at Rykar depart with curiosity, but all seemed to hold their tongues as if the man's spies might be mingled amongst them. Then Vesphaeon and Eleena stood up with flustered faces and walked briskly after their hot-headed brother.

  Eleena gave Jack a fleeting glance and a weak smile as she passed him, but did not speak. When they were gone, the crowd seem to swallow up their parting with no hint that anything had happened. Jack turned to Mathias and Will, who also appeared as if they hadn't noticed Oreus' children leave. However, their side-glances and nods to each other suggested otherwise.

  Faces of various important dignitaries and lords of Lemuria seated at the table shimmered brightly under the gloam-lamps, their skin speckled with gloam dust. Only they could sit at the table. Their eyes glowed a soft white, twinkling like the stars hidden somewhere above the stone cavern roof of the Library. Vigorous back patting, handshakes, and head-nodding between old friends accompanied the boisterous merriment of their voices; yet Jack noticed that Oreus' face looked troubled and deep in thought, isolated from the rest, like he was sitting alone at a ball while others danced around him.

  Something Rykar had said must have upset him. He thought.

  Then, noticing Jack's attention, Oreus' private thoughts seem to vanish, and he smiled cheerily at him, waving the teenager to sit at a spare seat next to him. Some of the table guests looked up as Jack passed; eyes curiously wide, and hands shielding gossiping whispers. When he sat down on the chair next to Oreus, a servant quickly stepped up beside him.

  “Anything to drink or eat for the Son of Thomas?” the thin man said. He was dressed in blue silks that swished about with every movement. A round, silver platter rested precariously upon the splay of his finger tips. Not waiting for a response, the man lowered a tall black glass within reach of Jack's hands. “Crestshine. Made of grape, wild berries and the ashur flower.” His eyes flit up to the bloom of flowers above Oreus' head. “The finest wine you will ever taste.””

  “Thank you,” Jack said nervously taking the glass and smelling its vapours. It smelt sweet and enticing. When he looked up, the waiter swished away back into the crowd of Lemurians to deliver another glass to hysterically laughing Thulese women whose ears were absorbing the joke from a suave looking Hy-Bresailian man with long curly hair and a broad grin.

  Mathias' warning about spies and traitors in the Library suddenly flashed in his mind, and he stopped staring at them when the man turned away from the women and winked at Jack, lifting his glass high in salute.

  Turning back to Oreus, he leaned closer to the High Librarian and said, “This is quite the party.”

  “All in honour of you,” the High Librarian said, smiling softly over his own transparent glass of Crestshine; blue eyes sparkling through the glass. “We have been waiting for you for some time Jack.”

  The teenager shifted uncomfortably in his chair, even though it felt as soft as a cushion of feathers. The thought of all this scrutiny of his 'importance' was leaving him feeling quite anxious. After a pause to take in the crowd and its hubbub, he found the words he wanted to say. “It feels like a weight around my neck, really. Like I'm some... prized deer.”

  Oreus' eyes turned to concern, but Jack spoke quickly before he could query him. “What I mean is, these memories of where the... Crown lies... seems like such a big responsibility. Don't get me wrong, I feel I am up to the challenge of helping you find and destroy this thing—my family's lives depend on it—but when I think about it, and the gravity of my importance in this whole war of yours... it frightens me.”

  “You have every right to be frightened and apprehensive; but I am honoured and thankful you wish to help us with the destruction of this artefact.” Oreus took a quick sip from his wine and sighed softly. “This war has gone on for far too long. Kaelan and his Dark Tide rebels are putting a lot of pressure on the securi
ty of my people. Our people. You are of our blood too. But do not be alarmed, your life is not tied solely to our cause. You are still of the modern world, and it is there you belong. Safe, away from the bloodshed.”

  “It is a bloodshed I choose to be apart of.” Jack's words surprised himself, but he kept his level stare at the Lord of the Hidden City.

  Oreus nodded. “Your sacrifice will save two worlds, Jack. But there are other things to consider too. Things I cannot discuss just yet, not even here.”

  Jack leaned closer still, eyes wide. “What do you mean?” His voice was barely a whisper.

  “There are some things that my people want, that I want, for the good of our civilisation. However, there are complications we have been musing on for several years now. Complications that will seal the fate of this world if we make the wrong decision. And I can't let that happen, no matter what I want. But, your eyes want more than I am willing to say right now. I will tell you when the time is right. For now...” Oreus stood up and raised his Crestshine wine to the sudden attention of the room. “Hail, Jack! Son of Thomas!”

  “Hail!” the room cheered. Upraised mugs and glasses frothed and spilled and eyes shimmered brightly. “Hail, Jack! Son of Thomas!”

  “May his coming destroy the Crown!”

  “Hail!”

  Jack shrunk behind Oreus, his face red.

  “Stand, Jack.” The teenager turned to the speaker behind him and found Cloak skulking amongst a crowd of his own kin. “Honour our cause.”

  Standing slowly, Jack turned to the crowd and smiled. The response filled the chamber with a resounding cheer that nearly knocked him over. Shying his face under his shaggy fringe, Jack quickly sat back down and took a swig of his wine. The crowd laughed at his response, and some came over to pat his back and say comforting words in his ear.

  When the Lemurians settled back into their groups, Oreus sat down and turned back to the teenager. “What do you wish to know? Anything, ask me anything. I am a lore-keeper. The history of my people is long, and I love to share it.”

  Jack's eyes followed Cloak as the Nysaean disappeared into the crowd along the eastern wall of the chamber. “Tell me about the Revenant.” He said, his eyes meeting Oreus' after one last sweep to find his friend. “How did they come about?”

  Cloak was gone.

  Oreus' face changed from eager to bleak, but his voice did not lose any of its strength. “That is an interesting choice of lore you wish to know. But I suppose you have met Cloak, and know a little about his people.”

  Jack nodded.

  “Well, let us start from the beginning.” The High Librarian shifted in his seat to be closer to the teenager, before continuing. “In the early years of Nysa, two brothers, Meztor and Ilidriar Tae'am, found a giant black stone inside a cave. It had the power to drive men mad and change into horrible shapes. Meztor however was a learned man—rumour had it that he made dealings with the Mir to gain their knowledge—and knew how to approach it without falling under its chaotic spell. Under the protection of the Obsidian Escutcheon—a powerful star-shaped talisman made from secret metals, which burned deep and fused into the flesh of his chest—he began to chip off fragments of the Doom Stone until he had several shards. Voices assailed his mind telling him to devour the shards whole, but he resisted. He experimented with the shards on many living things.”

  Jack gulped at the thought of experimentations. Then he raised a brow at word he had not heard before. “The Mir? What are they?”

  “They were an ancient people before Man walked the earth. They live... lived in the oceans of the world and taught man how to speak, read and write. Our ancient teachers. The Speakers of the One. Our Gods.

  Oreus' explanation seemed hurried as if he wanted to quickly gloss over that footnote question and return to the original story. “It was recorded in his diary,” he continued, “that one day a Doom Stone shard miraculously healed a wounded deer's mauled leg from a savage wolf attack. Unfortunately the deer died several days later, leaving behind a pile of black bones. Curiosity kept gnawing at him so he tried again on a wounded man. Under closer observation the man's sword wounds healed after the stone was placed in the wound. However he began to suffer days later from a strange decomposition. It was by accident that the man touched his beloved wife who was drained of her life force, restoring his own flesh in turn, but leaving her a pile of bones. In despair the man committed suicide.

  “Meztor had grown callously obsessed with the Doom Stone, then. One night he finally drove a shard into his own forehead. Taming the hunger with the Obsidian Escutcheon, he shifted into a giant shadow-like demon called the Enenra and killed a bar of patrons and Nysaean soliders. It was then he gained the attention of the king.

  “You see, it was the Obsidian Escutcheon that protected Meztor. Without it he would be another decaying slave of the Doom Stone. He was able to control and fight off the Revenant Hunger; but that somehow unlocked something dark and dangerous through the manipulation of the shard. The gateway to the World of Shadows opened. Hell, perhaps, in the word of your people. The Enenra was a distorted and corrupted form of Meztor and a spirit from the other side.”

  Engrossed in the story, Jack did not speak. The room seemed to quiet around him, and only Oreus' words could reach him.

  “The King of Nysa saw this as a military benefit in their petty wars with the rest of Lemuria, so he granted Meztor volunteers to become super soldiers. However... it went terribly wrong.”

  Jack remembered the rest of the story as Oreus retold it. How the super soldiers became Revenant, and under Meztor's command turned on Nysa, killed the king, and destroyed the landʼs great armies. In time they became the new rulers of the Land of Mists. Then the Samatar were formed, and with the help of the decimated Orgonar Knighthood they rose up against the undead armies and slew them all, finally killing Meztor and ending his reign.

  “No one ever saw what happened to the Obsidian Escutcheon after that. When Cloak killed Meztor the symbol was not on his body. He said a Revenant lieutenant escaped with it and fled north; but through the following months of hunting them down and burning their hideouts they could not find him. Even Ilidriar Tae'am, who had mysteriously disappeared after the finding of the Doom Stone, was a suspect. Whoever wore it could change into the Enenra by merely touching a Doom Stone shard.”

  Jack suddenly looked over his shoulder and saw Cloak talking to Mathias. He looked at the hunched over man in his shadowy garbs with a deep suspicion and gnawing fear. Jack remembered the fight with Gha'haram and the giant shadow the Samatar had become.

  Feeling the teenager's eyes on him, Cloak turned his pale face to Jack from down the table. Under the gloam lights, his black pupils were endless pits. They gazed right through him. The Samatar smiled as if he discovered Jack's suspicious thoughts. Jack gasped and turned away.

  “What is it Jack? Something seems to have startled you?”

  The teenager shook the foreboding thought away and looked back to Oreus with a weak smile. “Nothing, nothing at all. Just a dreadful thought of the Enenra in the room—but its just the story exciting a wild imagination.”

  Oreus nodded to his response, but Jack could tell that he didn't fully believe him. “If the shadow spirit is fused with another,” he said slowly, reassuringly, “it surely did not survive the Fall.”

  After a moment of silence between them, the High Librarian said, “Now, let us talk of the Games in my old world. Kind of like your Olympics, but on a grander scale. Thousands and thousands of people from every nation, pitting their greatest warriors in a sky-ship joust!”

  Jack grinned—genuinely this time—and turned his full attention to the blue-eyed Lord of the Hidden City. “Yes, I would love to hear that story,” he said.

  That night Jack crept back from the kitchens to his quarters where he had been eating the cook's leftovers and feeding scraps to Oreus' dogs. His hunger had woken him up, and Taran uthʼThagar—the portly Hyperborean with a leather eye-patch and thick
scars along his tattooed arms—had let him have a 'midnight snack' in return for cleaning the kitchen and dishes from the feast. The dogs were four, tall grey hounds—Buff, Fang, Greymane and Storm—who had been given to the High Librarian by a wealthy Egyptian lore-kin merchant, and were treated as if they were also his children. Jack wanted to be alone for sometime to ponder the last few days, and found the company of the hounds under the broad benches of the kitchen a pleasant escape from the inquisitive Lemurians who kept accosting him with questions whenever he was introduced or simply walked by them. Now the Chamber of Lore was quiet with sleep, and Jack locked the dogs in the kitchen and traversed the hallways under the illumination of the gloam orbs holstered to the walls.

  There was however another reason why he had awoken before dawn.

  Rounding a corner in the hallway, the door to Will and Cloakʼs quarters were in his sights. All he could think of was a horrible image manifesting in his mind. Cloak's ethereal form from the Southlake Woods snaking like chimney smoke through the darkness and consuming a sleeping and unsuspecting Layla...

  This image was quickly followed by black tendril fingers clawing at Mathias' turned back...

  No! I have to make sure he is on our side! Jack's paranoid thoughts spoke to the dark. Can't risk Kaelan having a spy among us—

  A small shadowy lump suddenly scurried between Jack's feet; tiny claws scratching the marble floor and a long twitching tail trailing behind it. He gasped in fear and flattened his back against wall for a brief moment. A soft sigh of relief escaped his lips when his vision adjusted and he identified a small brown mouse with big, gleaming eyes blinking up at him. He tapped his foot and it squeaked before darting into the darkness of the hall behind him.

  Jack turned back to the door ahead of him. He wanted to see if Erin bore the Obsidian Escutcheon on his body. If he was indeed the new Enenra. How he would find this out, he hadn't planned, but suspected that a brief glance of the man without his shirt on would confirm his suspicions. If Cloak ever took his shirt off around others, that is.

  Will would most definitely be bunking with him, so the chance might not arise. His thoughts kept weaving ideas and doubts through his head. Fool! Why are you so damn curious!

  Lights from door cracks spilled into the hall ahead where people still remained awake; the low murmurs of conversations barely audible to Jack as he moved passed them. He was as soft-footed as he could manage, wearing only his socks, and headed towards the last few doors at the end of the hall. This part of the Chamber of Lore was the Master Chambers, which housed most of the Lords of Lemuria. The great men and women who sat at the banquette table only hours ago. Mathias, Will, Cloak, Layla and his sleeping quarters were close to Oreus' own personal chamber that lay beyond the last door at the end of the hall. Behind two towering gloam-wood doors under a silver-leaf stylised archway. The shimmer of the orb-lights flickered off the silver leaves, giving the illusion that they were continuously cascading down like the autumn rain of a forest canopy.

  Several paces and he was standing before the second door on the right side of the hall before Oreus' doors. The light was out and no sounds came from beyond the door. Will and Cloak were either asleep... or...

  A cold breeze tickled his neck, and Jack spun around to scan the shadows.

  Nothing.

  He swallowed softly, turned back and tested the handle of the door.

  Why am I doing this? His thoughts questioned his movements that seemed to be in autopilot. This is stupid! No! I have to see if Cloak might be a threat to us—but what can I do if I discover he is?

  The handle turned effortlessly. A slow creak proceeded the swing of the door as he edged it open inch by inch—

  “What are you doing, Jack?” a voice exploded behind him. It was a dark and spiteful voice that stabbed into his back and straight through his heart. “Skulking in the halls like a thief!”