Their horses trotted into a clearing where a small ramshackle village lay old and deserted. The buildings were decayed, the fences and corrals askew. In the center of the village was a large fire pit. A skinned deer hung on a spit slowly roasting under the smoldering flames. Rhanu's mouth watered at the scent of roasted venison.
The man responsible stood to one side, watching his handiwork. Something about his stance was very familiar. Rhanu wondered what sort of man would be alone in the wilderness, yet bold enough to have cookfire smoke visible for miles.
The stranger's cloak was dark and travel-stained. His shoulder-length black hair rustled in the wind as he stiffened and slowly turned as though sensing their presence. Rhanu recognized him immediately.
The man was Marcellus Admorran.
Chapter 31: Gile
Gile had somehow assumed the Gathering would be a momentous occasion, but all it seemed to be was an assembly of sorts. The Speakers conversed about events around their territories, along with the pressing issues that affected their Sects.
He yawned as Celestine droned on with her mind-numbing report to Alaric. True to the nature of her Sect, she still did not reveal anything of importance despite the lengthy delivery.
Gile felt a smile touch his lips. Celestine surely made no mention of the disastrous events that had just occurred in Kaerleon. None of them would. Anyone who brought that up would undoubtedly appear self-incriminating. But it was on everyone's mind. He could tell by the slightly nervous twitter in her speech. She skirted around any events that would bring her even close to mentioning Leodia.
His thoughts focused as she finished her exercise in monotony with a deep curtsy that revealed quite a bit of her pale bosom. At last, something he could appreciate from the ordeal. She was a lovely woman; not even her icy demeanor could conceal that. Still, he'd as soon stuff a death adder in his breeches than try to bed her. He suspected the woman would treat any suitor like the black widow spider did her mate, but with far less passion.
To Gile's disgust, the woman actually flushed when Alaric thanked her, fawning like a dog that had just been patted on the head. Gile's lip curled in contempt. All her beauty and power, wasted. The only thing she cared about was pleasing Alaric. It was evident by her adoring stare.
Killian took his time getting to his feet when the time for his delivery arrived. He broke into a sardonic grin. "Not much to say really. We've been doing a bit of meandering here and there, looking for a little adventure and good times, ye know? Me mates and I don't pay much attention to the business of bloody domestics — what's the bleedin' point? They live, they die, and they're forgotten. We're busy looking for the next adventure, the next big thing. What's the bloody point of being immortal if ye don't live to the fullest?"
Celestine delicately sniffed her derision, but Killian's Sect rumbled their approval.
Alaric said nothing for a long moment. His shock-blue eyes bore into Killian's skull. "And what is this 'next big thing,' Killian? The island you've been dead set on conquering for the last decade, perhaps?"
Killian's smile slipped as his face turned sickly. Obviously, he hadn't known that Alaric was so well informed. "The island…right, ye speak of Gaelion. Forgive me for letting that detail slip. Just a project me mates and I have been working on. Have to keep 'em busy, or they'll be roaming across the whole bleedin' country. Nothing of any concern, of course. Didn't think it to be any cause for alarm."
"You wouldn't be securing it for an invasion of Kaerleon, would you, Killian?" Alaric's voice was deceptively soft.
A hush fell upon the hall as the dreaded name dropped. Gile thought if a mouse squeaked, the air would shatter. The other Speakers looked at Killian with great interest.
He cleared his throat. "No, your lordship. Of course not. Invade? No. I wouldn't dream of doing something like that. Stab me eyes, for true."
"Of all the Sects, yours is the most foolhardy. The most reckless. The most inept." Alaric emphasized the faults with a voice of iron. "Your marauding and bloodthirsty rampages are what threaten to tear the Code apart. You will rein in your band of ruffians, Killian. Or I will find someone who will."
Killian's head snapped up. His eyes practically burned in their sockets when he spoke. "And how long are we to slink in the shadows from those pathetic domestics? I have no love for such cowardice. We live for ages while they scurry about in their pitiful, useless lives before they die with no remembrance of their passing. We have the power to rule them all. We should use it."
The shock practically hung over the hall. The Malic murmured their agreement, along with some of the Obdura and a few of the Paphic as well before Tasith silenced them. The Arcana were silent as stones, but a quick dart of eyes here, a clenched jaw there indicated that Killian had uttered what many of them dared only voice deep in the dank, musty corridors of their minds.
Gile was impressed.
Alaric was another matter. His eyes were glittering chips of ice, the only indication he was even alive as he waited for the commotion to die before the soft words uttered from his lips.
"You mean the same way someone used their power on Regnault Lucretius?"
The spidery words washed over the room like a wave of dread, leaving them soaked in apprehension. Beads of perspiration glistened on Killian's forehead as his defiance melted away.
Alaric spoke with deadly calm. "The High King of Kaerleon is slain. Strange that none of you mentioned that in your reports. It has been specifically stated that major rulers are only to be manipulated, never directly controlled. But he was driven to madness by unnatural means. By Coercion. He was tortured, broken, and slain. I would know who went against the wishes of the Blood."
No one dared to answer or even breathe for that matter.
Alaric turned his acidic gaze back to Killian. "Perhaps you can provide some enlightenment on the subject, you being so near the kingdom at the time."
Killian swallowed. "I can assure you, milord; I was not the one to give any such order. We would not go against the Blood under any circumstance. This I do swear."
Alaric tapped his fingertips together as he contemplated his captive audience. "Then we have a mystery. Someone who would dare rebel against the Covenant and the Blood." His face was stern as storm clouds, his eyes the lightning that sizzled across them.
"Know this, Sects of the Gifted. This act of intolerance will not be overlooked. Our way of life is at risk because of these brazen acts of rebellion. You Speakers are responsible for the interrogation of your Sects. You will produce results, or surrender your leadership. We have left you to your own devices, and this is how you show your gratitude. You will now be under the watchful eyes of my servants. They will teach you what it means to serve. The Dhamphir will show you the meaning of respect."
The doors banged open.
Three of the Dhamphir shuffled in like the animals they were. Gile felt an uncomfortable reluctance to look upon their bestial features. None of them could gaze at the Dhamphir without a certain air of discomfort, though none would say why.
He knew, however, despite his own unwillingness to acknowledge it. The Dhamphir were the nature of the akhkharu exposed, the personification of what most of them feared or refused to accept. Underneath it all, they were all merely killing machines, only hideous creatures that fed on others.
The leader of the monstrosities was a gaunt, unnaturally tall creature. He was the most developed Dhamphir that Gile had ever seen, though that didn't say much. His head was a mottled onion with pale eyes and protruding fangs, and he lacked the leathery wings of his companions. The ragged black garments he wore seemed a weak attempt at a civilized appearance, but his sickly pallor and unblinking stare named him a monster.