From Silver and Chaos

The Past still Haunts

Chapter Nine: The Past still Haunts.

"Dhonall,

Our scouts have encountered troubling reports. The burning of Haaling was a victory, but not one that we have managed to hold onto. Our lone survivor, one who escaped before the fighting had begun, writes of lightening coming from clear skies. She writes of a shape emerging, spitting tremendous energy. One that our people had no hope of stopping.

It pains me to write this. We believe that Seeker Birchwood has survived the Abyss. Our Burned One returned to us far quicker, but the Seeker in her wretched determination to stop us, has found her way back. The stories are true. Evil will prevail. By the time this letter reaches you, she will have returned to the Legion. It pains me to recognise her power, but what footholds we have gained are in danger. The Burned One must be made aware or our Saviour's plans will be in jeopardy.

Your friend, Chiara."

"Chiara,

You wasted all that ink to tell me that the Seeker had returned. We spoke about this. It is foolish to write your doubts. Our betters know what to do. If they were to see your doubts written – if they sensed your disapproval as I do, then your life would be forfeit. Be sensible. Your message has been passed on. We will act accordingly.

Your friend, Dhonall."

Letters found on the body of a slain Saviour.

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The words that Gwen directed at Mahon marked a disturbance in the foundations of the Empire. Shifting fundamentals that made babies wake and cry. A wrongness that made horses buck and throw their riders. One that caused cows to lo and run. I imagined in whatever cesspit the Insurgent hid in, he quaked.

"Captain," Gwen squinted at Captain Bryant as he stepped into the Map-Room. "You are late."

I looked up from my position at the window, cradling a cup of tea against my chest. Mahon Bryant was indeed, late. Not by his own standards – where late meant arriving on time, and not five minutes beforehand, but by our standards. Five minutes late. The High Elf strolled in after him, casting me an imperious look before setting himself up against the Map-Room.

I wasn't looking forward to what was coming.

"I got delayed." Mahon told her sternly. "That can occur."

The Troll arched a heavy brow. "And you haven't discovered a way to shift the sands of time to make sure you were not late? How strange, Mahon. Did you possibly fall and hit your head. I did hear that this can cause a personality shift."

"Don't be so foolish." Mahon pushed his hair back from his forehead, casting her a condemning look.

"Foolish?" Gwen trailed a nail against the rivulets in the wood, carving another path for herself. I noted the strangeness of them – how the edges seemed razor sharp. Enough that in a fight, she left her hands unguarded so she could tear into flesh with the strength of her hands and the cut of her nails. Everything about her was primed for a brutal victory. I was glad, with all her strength and cleverness, that she was out ally.

"Yes. Repeating the word in a questioning tone does nothing but waste valuable time." Mahon settled himself at the table, giving us all an impervious look. Asha'da. It seemed declarations of love wasn't enough to save me from his condemnation.