Dealings in the Council of Avalhein - Chapter 3

Dealings in the Council of Avalhein…

Chapter 3

A tall fair figure strolled leisurely along the corridors of the massive black fortress. He traced his hands across the dark marble walls with his fingers almost adoringly. He grinned ferally while thumbing his tapered earlobe. His hair, the color of jet hung over his ears in a mess. He hadn’t had the chance to tidy up for the day.

He traced the wall until he came to his quarters. He pushed open the wide ebony doors and entered. Upon the walls were four braziers that cast a dim light in the windowless room, the large four-poster bed was covered with charcoal gray sheets and a tall mirror stood to one side. A simple wardrobe made of white wood stood stark against the dark walls, it was something he prized for he had pried it out of the destroyed house of his old enemies. King Tamallun and Queen Elethre were worthy enemies.

Another tall ebony door opened out to a balcony that overlooked the island upon which the fortress stood, but the man did not want to go out. He stood in front of the mirror, wearing a black cloak with golden thorns running up the side, a silk shirt and silk breeches; he would very well have passed for a noble elf. At that he sneered.

If he went to the elven city on that day, he would have walked the streets without notice. His face twisted in disgust at the thought of that. He whipped around and steel flashed as a dagger buried itself in the door. His manservant looked at it as it was quivering, plucked it and placed it on the tray he brought with him. He could smell the fragrance of meat through the cloth draped over it.

“M’lord, might I interest you in some lunch?” said the manservant. The other man wrinkled his nose.

“Very well.” said the other. His eyes flitted to the bed and he winced. It brought back memories he would rather not remember.

“Great Lord, Dark One, Feather Burner, Destroyer of the Throne of Vines, He who Scares Away even the Dusk… M’lord Algaisia, Sylfe seems to be coughing up more names for you every day…” the Man said as he let down the tray on a table in an alcove to one side of the room.

“I do remember telling you not to address me by that blasted name. Call me by my true name, Mal’haran” said the other man. Algaisia was a name he remembered all too well, but anything else that had to do with it, he did not, at least not until recently. It was as though it was a different life that could never again come back. How wrong was he to think that, just a few nights ago, a mysterious force had tormented him with memories that showed how good he was in that other life.

“I believe, O Great One, that this is the first time my lord has told me off.” said the manservant in a matter-of-fact tone. “Should I get something for my lord’s puffy eyes. You must sleep, m’lord, my lord might be immortal, but my lord is still afflicted by maladies of the flesh.”

“I will sleep when I see fit, Syurin.” He was proud of his manservant. That was the first time he tested his power to resurrect the dead. He came across the man’s spirit and it was different from the rest, as though it had descended into darkness far beyond reckoning and lived. That much, he liked. He had taken caution, though and erased all memories. “But you may get me something for the puffiness in my eyes. It is ruining my standing with the generals.”

“M’lord I do not think my lord would need to worry about my lord’s standing. I doubt that even a quarter of the soldiers know how my lord looks like.” said Syurin reassuringly. “Very well, M’lord, I shall get what my lord wants.”

With a curtsy that would have been fit for a king’s courts, Syurin left Mal’haran by himself. He wondered if Syurin had ever been in a king’s court before being resurrected; he filed the thought away as foolish.

No longer was he able to fight sleep. He fell like a brick onto the mattress and his eyes closed unwillingly. He shuddered at the thought of what might come.

He was in the surreal light of the world of dreams. He saw a world burning under his hand, but he made sure no one died. After all, what would ruling the world mean if you had nothing to rule? He screamed when he felt the familiar hooking sensation.

“No! No! nonono!” he screamed in his mind. He was the Dark One, ruler of an entire continent, his name struck fear into the hearts of many, but he cowered under this force that drew him from his sleeping dreams of domination.

”Welcome back, Algaisia…” said the voice that awaited him in the darkness that was blacker than black. Mal’haran glowered with indignation at the name, but he froze when he felt something caressing his very being. He screamed into the skies as the other force spoke to him.