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Selkor
has gained three of the four Keys
that the Warders have kept secret
for untold years. The Shandese Magician is desperate to get the final Key and become ‘The
Chosen One’ prophesied by the Oracle, Drehboor Perdimonn, Warder of the Earth Key, must somehow find a way to
stop him.
Calvyn and the Council of Magicians are racing to Perdimonn’s aid, but hundreds of leagues separate the allies… and Selkor is not Calvyn’s only enemy… |
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Prologue
from The Darkweaver Legacy: Book 4 |
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High
Lord Vallaine, Sorcerer Lord of the Inner Eye,
started in his seat at the sound of a sharp
double knock at the door to the Emperor’s
study. In
the blink of an eye his appearance changed from
his own unmistakable wizened features to the
more distinguished and imperial bearing of the
Emperor of Shandar.
If testimony was needed to endorse
Vallaine’s skill as a Sorcerer, then the fact
that none of the Imperial House Staff appeared
to have noticed any change in the Emperor since
Vallaine had killed and replaced him spoke
volumes of his subtle powers. ‘Shand send that this is good news,’ Vallaine muttered under his breath. He inhaled slowly and deeply. ‘Come in,’ he ordered, his voice composed and his intonation identical to that of the dead Emperor. The last ten days had not been easy for Lord Vallaine. Just about everything that could go wrong had turned into an unmitigated disaster. To begin with, Commander Chorain had been mysteriously murdered before Vallaine had been able to question him about the military defeat in Thrandor. Next, Bek, the Thrandorian arena fighter who Vallaine had intended to employ as an assassin, had been badly injured during a challenge bout and then had somehow disappeared from under the security guards’ noses immediately after the fight. Vallaine had set spies to watch the place where the Thrandorian fighter’s compatriots had been known to be hiding out, but they too had given Vallaine’s people the slip. All in all, High Lord Vallaine had good reason to feel that events were conspiring against him and his frustration was such that he was ready to start heads rolling if anything else went wrong. The door to the Emperor’s study opened and a young woman entered. A huge barrel-chested man followed closely behind her and, on seeing him, Lord Vallaine slowly curled his lips upward in a smile reminiscent of a dangerous predator lazily remembering an easy kill and an ample meal. ‘Ah, Femke, once again you have lived up to your reputation for getting things done efficiently. Be assured that you have my deepest gratitude for finding and bringing Barrathos to me so swiftly. You will be richly rewarded for this service,’ Vallaine said, his voice all but purring with satisfaction. ‘It was my pleasure, your Imperial Majesty, but if you have nothing further for me right now, then, with your leave, I will retire and get some rest, for the journey was long,’ Femke replied wearily. ‘Of course, Femke. Go. Sleep well. I’ll probably have a new task for you tomorrow, so rest with my blessing.’ ‘Thank you, Imperial Majesty. Should I report to you at a particular time?’ ‘No, Femke, go and rest. I’ll send for you when I’m ready,’ Vallaine answered in kindly tones. Femke dropped her head forward in the appropriate nod as she curtsied before backing towards the door, but Vallaine’s sharp perception noted that when Femke’s head rose again there was little tiredness in the young woman’s eyes. Femke was a woman after his own heart, born to a life of deceit and subtle manipulation. Femke suspected something about him, of that much Vallaine was sure, but what she had deduced and what she would do with any knowledge that she gathered, the Sorcerer Lord did not really know. Femke was a dangerous unknown quantity in the game that Vallaine was playing. The time might come when she would have to be removed from the playing board, but at present the clever spy was far too useful an asset to sacrifice. No, the trick would be to keep her off balance and so busy that her own games and suspicions would not have time to be played out. Vallaine smiled to himself as the door closed behind her. He had more than enough tasks to keep Femke busy. Dropping his guise as the Emperor, Vallaine turned his attention to Barrathos, who displayed no surprise at the sudden change of appearance from Emperor to High Lord of the Inner Eye. The big man was already nervous though and was slowly rubbing his huge palms together in a subconscious effort to remove the sheen of sweat that coated them. ‘What have you called me here for, Lord Vallaine?’ Barrathos asked, his deep voice resonating slightly despite the décor of the chamber. ‘To employ your skills, Barrathos, why else?’ Vallaine said simply, his sunken eyes glittering with a wicked enjoyment at the big man’s discomfort. ‘Despite the incident with the Gorvath, you are still the most competent Wizard that I know and I wish to summon some demons. I have put your past failure where it belongs – in the past. Now I need your abilities again, Barrathos, only this time I can afford no failures.’ Vallaine did not think it wise to add that in fact Barrathos was the only Wizard that he knew. Wizardry was the least practised of the arcane arts for good reason. Primarily the inherent dangers involved in attempting to control demons put off all but the stoutest of heart and the most foolhardy. The unfortunate fact was that sooner or later a Wizard was almost inevitably tempted into summoning a demon more powerful than he could actually control. Any mistake when handling demons usually proved to be a fatal misjudgement, as the demon would normally devour the Wizard in question. Aside from further reducing the number of practising Wizards, unsurprisingly this also served to decrease Wizardry’s popularity as a choice for study. ‘Did you say demons?’ Barrathos asked incredulously. ‘Yes, you heard correctly – demons, plural. One might not be enough to tackle the task that I have in mind.’ |
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