A street scene materialized before him. Dark, deserted. Lorenth bit his lip.
“What is it? What do you see?” the merchant’s tone was oddly neutral for all its urgency.
“Nothing yet, my lord,” the young man responded. “The streets nearby are empty.”
“Empty?” Morland exclaimed. He sounded disappointed, disbelieving. “Keep searching.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The scene was just fading out of focus as Lorenth began to move his farsight again, when a flicker of movement in the distance caught his attention.
“One moment, lord,” Lorenth said. “I may have something for you after all. There is something moving further up the lane.”
“Tell me.”
The young farseer pushed his sight up the cobbled street. A large group of shadowy figures sharpened into detail, running with long, bounding strides. Something about the way they moved struck him as wrong, unnatural, as if they were somehow lighter upon the earth than the size of their forms suggested. The foremost among them leapt high and hurled themselves upon another group, this one of wide-eyed men-soldiers, by the look of them-brandishing swords and spears. Even with the glow of rocking firelamps held high in the clenched fists of the men, the dark attackers were barely visible against the night. The feeble light cast by the lamps formed a faint golden frost upon the creatures, as if their black flesh greedily drank in all illumination.
Steel flashed and bodies collided, and Lorenth gasped at the ferocity of the clash. Then the breath caught in his throat with a dry rattle. He saw a spear ram through the abdomen of one of the black figures, but the creature did not falter; instead it grabbed the haft with both hands and wrenched it from the grasp of its shocked owner. The transfixed creature then hurled itself upon the man and bore him to the ground. Another man stepped toward his fallen comrade with sword upraised, but naked black hands wrapped around the blade, heedless of its cutting edge, holding it fast. Two more attackers leapt at the hapless fellow, binding his limbs. It was the same elsewhere, and the battle, if it could even be called such, was over in seconds. Every one of the men was down, and their unflinching foes bent over them with sinister intent.
Lorenth shifted his farsight in a panic, flinching away from whatever grisly end was to come. Another scene swam into focus, and the young man watched in horror as a different horde of the black creatures smashed in a shop door and poured into the building. The light pressing against the windows from the inside guttered, masked by twisting shadows within for a moment, and then went dark.
The farseer flinched, casting his sight elsewhere in the city, and found a large, embattled knot of the city guard. They were fighting in a protective ring around several huddled families while the black creatures came at them from all sides, constricting around the ring of soldiers in dark waves. With the startling clarity of his magical vision, Lorenth took in the drawn but resolute faces of the guards as they fought, the tear-streaked faces of the children clinging to their parents, and the depthless eyes and gaping maws of the attackers. There was no sound, of course, but all the mouths stretched taut in silent screams was almost worse, somehow; the unheard screams seemed to batter impossibly at his senses, clawing at him for supplication.
Lorenth convulsed, jerking his sight away again and again, only to land on scenes of similar mayhem all over the city. At last he dropped his farsight and fell back with a moaning cry, staggering for a moment as he returned to himself. The lavish interior of the chamber at Morland’s estate drew in close about him, cradling him with its warmth. He felt a rush of relief mingled with guilt that he was here in the tower and not down below in the city streets. He sucked in a shuddering breath.
“M-My lord!” he gasped. “The city is besieged, overrun by some strange force!”
Morland stood a short distance away, regarding him with a hooded gaze. The man made no immediate reply, but instead turned away from the farseer and strode to a tall chair, where he sank into its red velvet cushions. Morland placed his hands in his lap and laced his fingers loosely together. “Go on,” he said.
“There are thousands upon thousands of these strange creatures within the city walls, like black statues of twisted men come to life!” The young man gesticulated wildly at the tower window, as if the others could somehow bear witness to the same things that his farsight had allowed him to see.
Morland studied him with dark, deep-set eyes. “And how fare the city’s defenders against these invaders?” he asked quietly.
“The creatures show no pain and shrug off what should be mortal blows,” Lorenth said. “They are overwhelming soldier and citizen alike!”
The merchant nodded, pursing his lips. “The outcome is decided, then?”
Lorenth blinked, darting a glance to the tower window and then back again. Did the man not hear what he was saying? Did he not comprehend the danger that faced them all? “I–I do not know, my lord,” he said. “The battle rages on, and though I am no military expert, I do not see how the defenders can-”
The words froze on his tongue as he watched a cruel smile spread across the hard, aquiline planes of Morland’s face. Lorenth’s eyes widened. The man knew! He had somehow anticipated this evening’s events, and had brought the farseer here tonight to confirm them from the remote safety of his estate. He stared at the merchant in shock. Morland, for his part, simply watched the young man for a long moment as he sifted through the implications that came with the awareness.
“Do we continue to have an understanding, farseer?” the merchant asked with the cold smile still twisting at his lips. “I would hate to think that you had reached the end of your value to me.”
Lorenth opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. His eyes flicked to the powerfully built guards standing in the shadows on either side of the chamber’s only door. Their hands did not stray near the sword hilts at their hips, but they regarded him with pitiless, clinical stares. Lorenth snapped his mouth shut and looked back to the merchant. At last, he gave a tight nod.
“Excellent,” Morland said. “You will monitor the events in the city tonight, and you will inform me immediately of any occurrences that might change the outcome.”
With that, the man laid his head back on the high-backed, blood-red velvet chair and closed his eyes. His slender hands remained clasped comfortably before him in his lap. Lorenth swallowed a lump in his throat. Numb inside, he turned back to the tower window and stared out into the night, his eyes going unfocused.
Captain Borric shook his head to clear the sweat from his eyes. His vision remained blurry, however; a glancing blow from an ebon fist had left his head ringing and his left eye nearly swollen shut. How long ago had that been? It seemed like hours, but he knew how the chaos of battle could wreak havoc on a man’s sense of time; it had probably been only minutes.
He looked around at his remaining men. Brave men all, they fought like tigers against their implacable foe, but one by one they were disappearing. Even as he watched, one stout soldier raised his shield against a rain of blows and clove the skull of an attacker. A score of strong black fingers snaked around the edge of his shield, however, ripping it away and staggering him off balance. In the blink of an eye, the man was pulled from his feet and dragged on his back across the cobblestones and into the dark wave of creatures. The man to his left, exposed by his comrade’s sudden absence, gave a muffled cry as dark limbs wrapped about his head and shoulders. His neck broke with a sharp crack as he was jerked from his feet, and his struggling form sagged in their grasp. A pair of creatures pulled him several more feet before slowing, evidently noticing his condition. They released their hold, and he slid to the ground in a limp pile. They stepped upon him as they returned to the fray, taking no more notice of his discarded corpse than they would a loose stone in the roadway.