His followers were even more devolved. The bristly haired, bat-like creatures hissed and snuffed through their nostril slits as their wings flexed, spreading out the vein-riddled membrane before folding back again. They shuffled with hunched backs, their crimson eyes flicking back and forth, burning with malice as they gazed at those gathered. Their only language was indecipherable squeals and grunts. The stink of rotting leather assaulted Gile's nostrils as they passed.
Their emaciated leader ignored all as he slithered before Alaric and reverently dropped to his knees. His voice was a snakelike hiss through deformed lips. "As always we live to serve the Blood."
"Your loyal allegiance is appreciated as always, Krolo. I know you are eager to obey my commands." Alaric spoke absently, his eyes glimmering as he stared at Killian.
"Let it be known that if the Sects do not come to order, then new supervision will be provided by the Dhamphir. The treachery in Kaerleon will be settled in one way or another." He stood and addressed the audience. "I will meet separately with the Speakers in private. The rest of you are free to stay or leave as you will. This Gathering is adjourned."
The appearance of the Dhamphir had thrown the entire Gathering in a state of uncertainty. Gile decided it was his chance to act. He stood and hurried forward, ignoring Orabon's startled whisper. He shoved his way forward, jostling several attendees as he surged toward Alaric. He ignored them as he fell to his knees.
Alaric waved away the guards that immediately encircled him. He gazed at Gile again with his invasive eyes. Gile practically felt the fingers sink into his mind, searching his intentions. The High Lady had promised she had protected Gile against a mind probe, and if Gile believed in prayer, he would have prayed that Masiki was right.
Because if Alaric could read his mind, he would be dead in seconds.
Krolo slithered over and sank his clawed hand into one of Gile's shoulders to keep him in place. Krolo then looked at Alaric, who shook his head to the unspoken question. He fixed his imperious stare upon Gile.
"You know you risk death by approaching me like this, Aberran?"
Everyone had stopped to stare at Gile, but he ignored them as he kept his eyes on the floor. "Yes, m'lord. But I've stared Death in the face and lived. I fear nothing now except for you, Majesty."
The crowd murmured at his bold speech. Gile lifted his head slightly but still did not meet Alaric's gaze. "M'lord, there is a message I have vowed to relate to you."
Alaric lifted an eyebrow. "Vowed? Very well, Aberran. Speak quickly."
Gile licked his lips nervously. "My name is Gile Noman, your Majesty. Some past nights ago I came upon one of the Sect brothers. Which one, I never found out. He was dying. He had been attacked, and his wounds did not heal, but festered."
The Sects looked at one another wonderingly. Even Killian leaned forward in his chair.
Gile continued. "He said he was the lone survivor of a massacre. His brethren had been attacked by a dark rider on a beast more monster than steed. He said the rider was swathed in sackcloth and black spike-studded armor, darker than the sky at night. A great horned helmet completely covered its head, so only the flaming eyes could be seen. It sprang from the darkness and put his companions to the sword, while its horse breathed flame that ate the rest. The Crafts were useless, for they dissipated like mist before it.
"He said he only escaped by focusing a Shadowmeld, but had taken wounds that slowly killed him. He begged me to seek you out, your Majesty. He made me vow to find you and let you know the Reavers have returned."
Alaric's face was impassive through the entire narrative, not so much as batting an eye at news that was earth-shattering if even half true. Gile would have given much to know what thoughts circled in the Pale Lord's mind.
The rest of the Sects were abuzz. Their Speakers did not even reprimand them in the face of their own shock. Even some of the Co'nane paled and stared at one another at the news.
Inwardly, Gile smiled. A Reaver. The scourge of the akhkharu come again with no warning, at the same time as the recent acts of rebellion. He risked a glance at the other Speakers. Killian leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and a thin smile on his face. Tasith appeared unruffled, but Gile caught the cool glance she gave Lord Drowan. Celestine betrayed no emotion as she watched Alaric and the others as closely as Gile did.
Alaric folded his arms. "I see. You were correct in bringing this to my attention, Gile Noman. I will question you further about this matter very soon."
His face was grave as he addressed the entire assembly with a hardened voice. "All of you mark me well. The Reavers have not returned. I destroyed their kind long ago. If Leilavin has left her abode in Everfell, she cannot return. I altered her Threshold to bar itself if ever it was opened. This will no doubt prove to be a clever ruse on her part, perhaps using those Huntsmen you fear so terribly. Again, you are welcome to stay for as long as you wish. The Speakers will accompany me, for there is much we need to discuss."
The Sect members were abuzz as they dispersed. All grudges and bad blood seemed forgotten as they openly discussed Gile's revelation. Gile felt Alaric's eyes follow him when he rejoined with Orabon, who turned away as if ashamed to be seen with him.
"You play a dangerous game, and risk too much." Orabon's voice was barely audible. "I have plans and orders of my own to carry out. Discretion is what keeps us alive and unnoticed, you bold fool. Alaric will not let you leave this place alive; you must know this."
"I did as Masiki ordered. If I risk much, it is what she desires. You do your part and arrange a way for me to leave this place."
Orabon stepped closer, dropping his voice even further. "Do not say the High Lady's name in these walls. It is not safe. And as far as getting you away from Alaric's clutches, that is beyond me. I had no idea the High Lady had sent you to stir the hornet's nest."
"I'll leave with or without your help, Orabon. I didn't come this far to end up trapped in a glittering prison. I won't sit around waiting for Alaric to 'question' me further."
Orabon relaxed, fixing his into a mask of calm once more. "I did not say I that I wouldn't help you. Just that escape is beyond me. But not beyond others here."
Gile took a wary glance around. Everyone in the room seemed to have eyes on him, and small wonder considering what he had just disclosed. But from Orabon's words, it sounded as though someone else at the Gathering served the High Lady as well.
"Who?"
Chapter 32: Alaric
The Council of Speakers was a smaller and more comfortable setting than the Hall. The floors were polished ashwood, the walls overlaid with panels of detailed teak carvings of floral and animal designs. It was reminiscent of the old Aelon forest homes before the dominion of men.
The Speakers sat, still unsettled by the appearance of the Dhamphir and the startling revelation by Gile Noman moments earlier. Alaric counted on their unease. It gave him time to observe their reactions. He had learned long ago that more was revealed by a person's face than their words. The Speakers revealed much without speaking at all.
Drowan's face was ice. Of all the Speakers, he was the least unsettled by the Dhamphir. That wasn't surprising. The Obdura Sect often altered their appearance into similar forms in order to gain the ability of flight. Alaric took note of Drowan's eyes when they flicked toward Tasith, confirming the alliance that the two Speakers had established. It was an odd association since the Malic and Paphic Sects had nothing to do with the other.