The Halo Of Vakh (BOOK 1)

MARKED

DACREME 633 A.T.E

The crow on the steeple

Is singing to the people

"Ashes, ashes.

We all fall down"

"Take the Bindyr. I want it found."

The shadow moved forward, wraith-like on the chandelier, unseen and unheard. The fire danced ominously in the hearth, throwing a man's silhouette into stark contrast with his ember surroundings; perilous, dark, dangerous. The man was an inferno, searing and blazing, leaving everything in his way reduced to ashes.

"Sire, we'll need more men," a man stepped forward from their place among his peers, head low, trying not to anger the man before them. Overhead, the woman turned her head, struggling to get one glimpse of the leader's face; she didn't care if the features sent a shiver of cold dread down her spine. She'd only get over it if she faced him. The fear would not go away itself.

"The Bindyr shall be enough."

A shiver ran through the ranks of the men below. Overhead, Carya rolled her eyes. She felt a light tug at the edge of her consciousness, sharp and steady, and she pushed back, focusing on the task at hand; Ileeyan could wait. The air rippled around her with the silence below, before one of the congregated spoke up.

"We've been contemplating, Sire," his voice came out meek, his thin back bowed under his furs and Carya had to admire his courage for speaking up when the Butcher stood before them, boiling and seething in his fury. The man continued, his words wavering only slightly, turning his voice that had started strong, meek under the King's glare. "The Bindyr, Sire... They've turned minacious over the course of the past month."

Carya was no member of Harfen Parr's court, nor would she ever be, yet she knew, from all her past escapades, that those words had been a fatal venture. Carya could see the exact moment the words choked him, taking away his breath as he coughed, hands flying to his pale neck, scratching at the skin there, gasping.

"Tell me, Vera," The King turned around, the circlet on his head, glinting under the bleeding light of the fire, auburn curls twisting around his cursed head like a halo and Carya had the momentary urge to swipe the crown from his head and extend her arm into vines and remove him from the doomed throne upon which he sat. "Have I not made it plain that the Bindyr are not to be insulted?" The councillor gurgled. Her eyes flickered to the man beside The Butcher and she clenched her teeth. That man was an abomination. "You shall do as they say. You shall head into your wars and conquests with them at your side. They are the reason we have kept the fey distant and you will do well to remember that. Am I understood?"

Vera nodded frantically, eyes bulging and the hold upon his lungs eased, leaving him heaving huge gulps of air. Parr turned towards the man at his side, regal and menacing under the influence of the roaring flames.

"Have the men marched forward, Faske?"

The Draeked Master nodded, hands crossed behind his back, thick velvets rustling as he stepped forward. "Yesterday, Sire."

"The attack is contemplated for?"

"The start of Janatir, Sire."

A low hum was the lone answer to the declaration.

"Send word to Toluer," Parr said. "Ask him how his quest is faring. Tell him the men have gone to war. We shall require his council and wit if we are to succeed. " He walked towards the throne and settled leisurely on it, hands curling around the thick silver stem of a goblet a boy - most likely his servant - offered to him, two rings glinting as they caught the light. Raising it to his thin lips, he nodded his head once. "Make sure you find it. Give up your lives if you have to. I want it found. Fail and there shall be grave consequences. Dismissed."