A Darkness Dawning: The Gifts, #1

By Matthew Story

For years, a dark shadow has loomed over the Six Kingdoms. The Ungifted, people believed by many to be abominations, forsaken and forgotten by the gods, have become commonplace. They struggle in a world that does not want them, surrounded by magic, the Gift of the gods to their creations, which they cannot use. Beaten, betrayed, and met only with tragedy and heartbreak, they can do only one thing: survive.

 

As unknown forces begin to collude and bring their mysterious designs to bear across the land, fate has begun to draw into its weave the lives of those who will serve to shape the course of history: a queen and king, locked together in a battle for the very soul of their land, on the precipice of disaster at the hands of old enemies, an assassin who's darkest moment becomes the beginning of a journey that may allow her to rediscover her lost humanity, a man without allegiance, who toes the line between honor and ill repute in a world that offers only hatred, a thief who cannot reconcile the ways of the world as he becomes embroiled in the plight of the unlikeliest of individuals.

 

A Darkness Dawning chronicles the lives of the Gifted, the Ungifted and those in between, their fates entwined in a tale of tragedy and hope, choice and consequence, loss and love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Story
• Release date: Nov 6, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223821021

Matthew Story

Matthew Story has always had a fascination with storytelling, enthralled by the workings of fantasy and science fiction. From one of his earliest memories watching Disney's Sword in the Stone while sick in bed, to reading the entirety of the Lord of the Rings trilogy at the age of ten, this fascination, partnered with an overactive imagination and crippling social anxiety, is likely the reason he spends far too much time embroiled in the world of video games and movies. He seeks to bring to life stories and characters that explore both the evil and good in humanity, while exploring his admittedly limited and definitely, mostly original fantasy settings. When he can convince himself to take time away from his education and gaming to do so.

Book preview

Chapter 1 

Leanne Y’strom strode purposefully through the busy, cobbled streets of Ashaar’s royal city of Mel’anon. In the late evening’s light, her silken dress gleamed, a white fabric interwoven with thin and intricate patterns of blue and gold thread, shimmering with every step. The wildfire of her auburn hair had been carefully and attentively fashioned into a fine braid pinned to the back of her head. Above frowning, heart-shaped lips, Leanne’s amber eyes looked out upon the city without their normal cheery glimmer, shadowed by worry. Furtive, curious glances from those they passed were ignored, the hastened steps and hushed whispers of passersby fell upon deaf ears. Her forays into the city proper were normally full of pleasant and engaging conversation, laughter, and spirit. Today was markedly different.  

Queen Leanne had business to attend to and it was clearly no laughing matter. 

A retinue of four other women followed close behind her regal figure, handmaidens whose responsibility it was to see to her needs as best they could. Each bore an expression laced with varying degrees of dismay and horror as, with each step, the hem of Leanne’s fine silken dress scraped across the dirt and grime of the cobblestones. Every time it caught against the rough surface their breath would cease until it had been pulled free by the queen’s momentum. Looking carefully, one could clearly see that her beautiful braid, painstakingly constructed by two of the women that afternoon, was slowly becoming frayed and undone. When Leanne finally stopped, each of the women took a heavy, steadying breath. 

The structure they stood before dominated the center of a large square in the eastern district of Mel’anon. The building itself was long and flat, walls constructed of a pure-white granite unlike any other masonry in the city. Unlike the other structures that surrounded this particular building, dirty and unkempt, the polished white walls were unblemished by wind, earth, or time. Even the cobblestones surrounding it were kept free of grime from the daily passage of commonfolk. A simple set of double doors, crafted from oak, were set into the western face of the structure and on either side of the framework a window had been carved from the stone. Beneath each shuttered opening a white banner hung, displaying the emblem of an open, golden hand enveloped in a swirl of light and flame, symbol of the healing houses of Ashaar. Leanne hesitated as she moved to the doors and reached for them, as though unsure she should proceed. But with a deep breath and a subdued motion for her handmaidens to remain without the building, she moved inside.  

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light within. As they did so, more of the familiar room revealed itself. The large doors opened into a small and simply furnished room, fashioned as a space for the healers to welcome and receive those seeking aid. The northern and southern walls of this room each held a door of its own, passages that would allow one to traverse into the two hallways of the healing house proper and the rooms beyond wherein lay the sick or ailing. Upon the walls on either side of these doorways, and at each corner of the room, torches were suspended upon simple, bronze sconces. Across the room from Leanne, another door was set into the eastern wall. A woman garbed in a white cotton dress entered the room from the space beyond it as Leanne stood nervously just inside the entrance. Her face bore the lines and wrinkles of time. White hair, still bearing traces of the black locks of her youth, had been fashioned into a bun atop her head. She wore a gentle and welcoming smile. About her waist a sash of red, orange, and gold was affixed, marking her as one of the senior healers of the establishment. She approached Leane with calm, steady steps and her smile widened. 

Always a pleasure to see you, my Lady. Always a pleasure. 

Where is he? Leanne asked. The quiver in her voice betrayed the worry behind her outward composure. Where is Landel? 

One of the healers has just finished attending to him. The wounds he sustained were not severe and his recovery has been incredibly swift. Come. 

With this final word the old woman gestured for Leanne to follow her and proceeded towards the northern door. Leanne followed behind as they passed through and into the hallway beyond. It extended further to the north, the granite floor covered by a white, woolen rug of immense length, extending from their feet to the other end of the hall. More torches lined the walls, staving off the gloom of darkness in a space without access to the light of the sun. 

Thank you for sending word, Helen, Leanne said softly after a few steps. I may never have known otherwise. 

Of course, my Lady, the old woman said with a soft nod. You know that he only wishes to spare you. 

Yes, but the scars tell their stories nonetheless. 

You should tell him as such. 

I have, Leanne responded with a sigh. But he refuses still. 

Fears for your gentle soul, does he? 

After fifteen years, my ‘gentle soul’ won’t be enough to save him if he cannot learn to share his worries with me instead of... Leanne stopped as she realized the heatedness growing in her words. I apologize, Helen. I shouldn’t heap our troubles upon you. 

The old woman stopped walking and turned, her smile gone.  

My dear, your troubles affect us all. It is the nature of your station. Besides... Helen’s smile returned, and, for a moment, she placed a comforting hand upon Leanne’s cheek. You are as much a daughter of the House as you are this kingdom. We are always glad to help shoulder your burdens. 

Thank you, Helen. Leanne said, a different quiver in her voice now. 

Now, the old healer said gesturing to the door beside them, I see no reason to dally. 

Leanne nodded and faced the door, taking a moment to compose herself before opening it. The room on the other side was decorated simply, furnished with a bed, two chairs, and a table. Even had the room been more richly furnished, it would not have taken much for the figure within to dominate the space as he did now. Landel Y’strom was a tall man, lean and muscular from his years of service to the kingdom and the many years before living from what the land and his own two hands would provide. Barely past thirty summers of age, his angular face bore lines befitting a man ten years his senior. His eyes were the shade of storm clouds, sharp, analytical, and intelligent, set beneath thin brows. A simple and well-kempt beard lined his jaw, its hue matching his wavy, black hair with the barest hint of white at the roots.  

If Landel had heard the sound of the door opening, he decided to ignore it for now. Leanne’s husband sat upon the bed, adjusting a simple linen bandage wrapped around his waist. She could see the old scars he carried as they traced jagged paths across his chest and shoulders, the marks of a hard life. Helen claimed Leanne had a gentle soul, but the younger woman still marveled that a man of such rough upbringing could possess a soul so similar. His concerns and regrets ran deep, but an early life of solitude and hardship meant he did his best never to let them show. Satisfied with his adjustments, he gave a small nod to himself and looked up to see Leanne standing upon the threshold of the room. 

Wife, he said with a mischievous tone, struggling to veil and apprehension just beneath. 

Leanne chose to ignore him for the moment. She instead closed her eyes and searched for the warmth inside, the center of light and fire she carried within. Finding and grasping it was easy as ever, like donning an old, but beloved pair of boots or a favorite dress. With her center found, she reached out towards Landel with her Gift. A faint and almost imperceptible glow began to emanate from hands held at her side. With her Gift she searched the structure of his body, the measure of heat within him, the flow of his life’s energy. There were some healers who found individuals such as Landel difficult to treat; to the inexperienced, scars and other long-lasting distress of the body could sometimes be confused for fresh wounds. To Leanne, however, the difference between was as night and day and she quickly found the exact location of the wound he had entered the House for. 

She could feel the heat surrounding it, the inflammation of his flesh as the body attempted to right itself, the flow of warm blood to the area. Leanne examined it carefully and determined the healers had done well, as they always did. There was an almost imperceptible difference where much of the wound had been closed, given away by small imperfections in the mending of new flesh and muscle to old. She let out a sigh of relief and released her center, letting her Gift fade. The flood of power that had filled her body, brief as it was, was swiftly replaced by a deep and creeping fatigue. Leanne stood and met his gaze with her eyes full of ember and smoke. Then she crossed the short distance between them, drew her arm back, and promptly drove her fist into his cheek. 

The blow was devoid of any truly malicious or violent intent, but Landel embellished it, throwing himself back onto the bed with a playful cry. He placed a hand against his cheek and made a show of nursing his new ‘wound,’ giving his wife a look of shock. 

Now what was that for? he asked. 

You know very well what that was for, she responded in a huff.  

Leanne’s eyes told him she would brook no playfulness in this moment, so Landel sat upright and motioned for her to join him on the edge of the bed. She hesitated in annoyance but eventually sat beside him with a theatrical motion, her arms crossed and her head turned pointedly away from him. He wrapped his arms around her gently and, in spite of herself, Leanne leaned into the embrace, turning towards him to allow Landel to plant a soft kiss against her brow. 

Why do you do this to me? she asked with now unveiled worry clear in her voice. You take so many risks you know you shouldn’t. Why won’t you just speak to me about your worries? 

Because they're mine and I don't want you to have to share in them, he replied softly. 

But I do share in them, like it or not. I can tell when you’re troubled or upset, I see the scars, new and old. You spare me less than you think. Landel was silent at this declaration, at a loss for words. What was it this time? Leanne continued, placing a hand gently against the bandage around his waist. 

A stag, he said in a distant, mystified tone. You should have seen it, Leanne. An albino with a hide of such a hue, white, unblemished, surpassingly pure. A truly beautiful creature. 

It certainly sounds so. I suppose I’ll have an opportunity to share in this alleged majesty for myself? 

Of course. We caught the beast, though it gave us a fair deal of trouble. Wily creature gave the younger lads the slip a few times. 

I suppose one of those times accounts for this? Leanne said, putting a small, but harmless, amount of pressure on his wound to bring the awestruck man back to the present. 

Yes, he said, wincing. A parting gift. I caught up to it on my own at the end, though the others weren’t far behind. Dealt me quite a blow with its antlers before it fell. Fen and Graham had to practically drag me from the creature so I could be treated. 

Well, I’ll have to thank them. At least they had the sense to send you back. Leanne spoke with a pointed bitterness as she pulled back from Landel. 

Don’t start with that again, I know. I know I have responsibilities. To you and this kingdom, it’s just...sometimes I wish... Landel began, his voice trailing off towards the end in hesitation. 

You wish what? 

The guilt was apparent on his face as he spoke. Sometimes I wish I had never left my old life behind. No worries about presentability, politics. It was simple, living for myself; simple and free. 

Do you...regret this? Leanne asked quietly. Her eyes dropped to the floor, unable to meet his. Do you regret...me? 

Not for a moment.  

His answer was quick and sure. He stretched a hand towards her and lifted her chin. The gaze that met hers was full of love and warmth.  

You are the single, most incredible thing that has ever happened to me. The only thing that makes these responsibilities, these worries, bearable. 

Then you should share them with me. In full. 

I try, I do. But the past is a difficult thing to undo. All I can promise is that I will try to do better. 

She settled back into his embrace again. 

You know, she said, I miss those days too. They were amazing, adventurous times. Wild, carefree. But time moves only forward, the world moves forward, and we need to move with it. We may not yet be wizened, old bodies, but we are no longer young and no longer carefree. 

She hesitated, not wanting to spoil this moment with business, but it sometimes seemed that was all life offered and it would not wait forever. Besides, she needed to follow her own words of wisdom. 

Have you given more thought as to what we should do? 

Landel let out a sigh. This was the very question he had sought to escape for a time, but the very notion was a facade. He could distract himself all he wished, but the problem was not one that would go away on its own. Their kingdom, Ashaar, faced a crisis that they had a duty to resolve. Bandits and highwaymen plagued the roads, two years of harsh winters and failed crops had spread supplies thin. Their people were concerned, scared. Some blamed poor leadership, something Landel felt inclined to agree with in his darkest thoughts.  

I have, in fact. I can’t say that I have an answer, but my mind has been turning it over and over. 

What of our proposal, or the emissary’s? Leanne asked. She and the Advisory, Ashaar’s royal council, had brought a proposal to the table nearly a week ago, one Landel hesitated to accept. The council would call on Ashaar’s allies among the Six Kingdoms for aid in its time of trouble.  

Landel felt his hesitation justified. The Six Kingdoms had ever been prone to war and violence following the age of the Firstmen, some more than others. When the gods had vanished, so too had the unity of mankind. Men ever quarreled against each other, seeking ever more land, prominence, and power. Ten years ago, a fragile peace had finally been formulated after a conflict that had spanned nearly twice that time. 

For the most part, Ashaar had remained neutral territory, removing themselves from the violence as much as they could unless prompted to defend themselves. The other kingdoms, though, had borne the brunt of the aggressive actions made by the former mad king of Gheda. His second eldest and only surviving son had been the one to put a stop to the madness and finally brokered peace. In the years since, the kingdoms had recovered to varying degrees, though the undertones of mistrust and hatred still ran deep. Landel had fought in that war, defending his home. He had heard tales of the horrors enacted upon the other kingdoms and it had scarred him, whether he knew it or not.  

Accepting the proposal of his Advisory declared their position to the world and opened their lands to scrutiny from men and women who might potentially seek to take advantage of their weakened state. On the other hand, the emissary Leanne spoke of could be the key if he was willing to accept this emissary’s proposal. The man in question, Aldren, had made the journey into Ashaar at the request of his king. As Aldren told it, Gheda now sought to foster and build true relations with its neighbors. Their king had spent years convincing his people that this was the only way forwards into a new future that might bring prosperity for all. Landel had welcomed the man but harbored his own suspicions. Ten years was a long space of time in which to wait before offering such things, but he knew old enmities were not easily cast aside. Aid from a kingdom the size of Gheda could be a fortunate turn of events, yet something about the timing roused a sense of danger within him. Landel needed an answer, though, and soon.  

I’ve yet to conjure up anything concrete, but if we are to move forward with either option, it would be best to do so while showing the least degree of vulnerability possible, Landel said slowly. 

So, you would concede to the emissary? Leanne asked. 

Yes, I think so. Aldren’s intentions seem genuine and the future his king proposes for the Six is a tempting prospect. An outcome we can only reach if we strive to overcome the animosity between our people, however small we must start. 

Something about the way Landel spoke perked her interest. 

But you do have doubts...don’t you? she asked. 

He nodded. I can’t say why. They’re likely entirely irrational and foolish, but there’s just something, a small voice in the furthest recesses of my thoughts that begs the utmost caution. 

I’ve harbored my own doubts as well, Leanne said, but the past should be laid to rest. It will take time to forget and forgive, but I think we should. This peace will mean nothing if nothing changes. 

As usual, Landel said, smiling warmly at her, your wisdom shines through. Of the two of us, you are by far the better. 

And don’t you forget it, Leanne said with a smile of her own. Her worry had finally melted away. In its place there was now a tired contentment; she had made her choice well. 

I suppose we should be leaving, Landel said. 

I suppose, his wife replied, making no effort to move until Landel gently stirred and pushed her away, rising from the bed slowly with a grunt of effort and discomfort as his bandage shifted. Leanne let out a small sigh and rose to join him, straightening her silken dress as best she could. She looked up to see Landel watching her with a slightly bemused smile. 

What? she asked. He raised his eyebrows and glanced down towards the hem of her dress. Leanne looked down and noticed the ragged edges of the fabric, frayed and dirty, and couldn’t help but laugh.  

Well, I never was one for the finer things in life. Leanne said, struggling a little to speak through her chuckling. I suppose it’s not entirely ruined? 

I can only imagine the fits Moira and the other girls will have when they see it, Landel said with a grin. 

Oh, a few of them came with me. I imagine they got quite an eyeful. The horror! Leanne exclaimed, breaking into a fit of laughter along with her husband. 

As Leanne composed herself, Landel gathered his shirt and put it on. His tabard and belt he threw over his right shoulder; the tender area around his wound would make them difficult to don and uncomfortable to wear. In his right hand he grasped his scabbard, within a simple iron longsword. The pommel was a small bunch of iron hammered into a rough ball shape and the grip was wrapped with well-worn leather bindings. Though not visible, the blade was well-kept and oiled, sharp, but bearing chips and dings along the edge from prolonged use. His belongings gathered, Landel held his left arm out towards Leanne. Arm-in-arm, the two made their way out of their room and towards the front of the House. They were met there by Helen who proceeded to address Landel. 

I trust Lily has told you everything, but for fear of what your wife will do to us if you decide to neglect your recovery, I’m going to tell you again. You need time to let your body recover the resources used to encourage the healing of your wound. Food and rest. Avoid physical exertion. 

Of course, Helen. Thank you, Landel said to her with a small bow of respect, which the old woman returned. 

With her words ended, Helen walked towards the southern hall and further business. A young woman in a plain white dress was waiting for her at the door and the two passed out of sight talking softly. Leanne and Landel turned and left the House, where they were greeted by Leanne’s handmaidens. It was clear they had been waiting impatiently. As the two royals stepped from the House the four women quickly ceased their prattling and quickly turned to perform the customary curtsy of individuals of their station towards the royal family. 

I apologize for keeping you waiting, Leanne said. 

There’s no need to apologize, my Lady, one replied, the youngest of the four, who had only recently entered the service of the royal house. 

Of course, there is. Royal lineage is no excuse for mistreatment or discourtesy. We are people, plain and simple, as are you. The raven-haired woman looked up at her, amazed and intrigued by Leanne’s words, and was met by a warm and inviting smile from her queen. Now, we shouldn’t tarry, Leanne continued, Let’s be off. I’m eager to be home before night sets in, as I’m sure you are. 

She was met with a quick consensus and a few nods. Smiling, she started walking with Landel following close beside her. The handmaidens fell into step behind them, keeping pace, but leaving enough distance between that Leanne did not feel their presence. She was appreciative of these women, who dedicated many of their younger years to service, and their sense of care and concern. With the distance between them she was left to enjoy her time with Landel as they walked the streets. 

She knew they were unlikely to reach the castle walls before sundown gave way to dusk. Already the sun had passed out of sight. She knew its brilliant shape had reached the horizon by now by the colors streaking across the sky. Blue had been chased away by streaks of orange and red that reached across the firmament towards the as yet unseen stars. The radiance of the day’s light was fading, the shadows deepening with every step they took. The hot air of a late summer’s day had begun to lose its bite. 

Leanne loved this time of day. The bustle of the city took on a new shape as the evening hours began to set in. Shops prepared to close for the day, ushering folk to finish their purchases and leave. People on the cobblestones mingled in a strange mix of urgency and sluggishness. Children occasionally ran from alley to alley, acting out their grand, and sometimes mischievous, adventures. Leanne wordlessly pressed herself closer to her husband, enjoying the quiet moment, the strength of his arm and smooth steadiness of his gait as they walked slowly down the middle of the streets. Landel quietly enjoyed this moment, too, of unspoken love and contentment. Moments like this grew scarcer and scarcer as the days passed and he always did his best to quiet his chaotic thoughts when they drew near, taking the serenity in stride as it came. 

It was this feeling of calm that created such confusion in him when broken by the whispering at the back of his mind as the street emptied. Leanne had spoken to him of her Gift once, about the effort and toll it could take upon her body, but Landel rarely experienced such strain with his, not unless using it in a monumental or sustained fashion. His Gift always stayed in the back of his mind. The movement of the air and its currents, the breezes and gales, all relayed to him a story. A tale of change and freedom and travel as natural to his understanding as words upon the page of a book. He had learned to master the voices and they normally stayed far to the back of his thoughts, not distracting or disruptive, simply present for moments when he deigned to listen. There was an urgency in their whisperings, speaking of something...wrong, unnatural.  

Instinct replaced thought as the attack occurred. 

Pain was no surprise or stranger to him, merely an awakening trigger for his mind. The dagger had been meant for his neck, but the distance of the throw and whispering of the wind had been enough to stimulate an unconscious movement of his body and the dagger instead traced a path through his tabard and shirt, tracing a shallow line across the flesh at the back of his shoulder. Even as the winds spoke to him of the path the dagger took and his eyes moved to follow, the glint of light on metal warned him of another already heading his way. He turned immediately, using his strength to whisk a startled Leanne to the side, tumbling in his arms to the street. Holding her tightly, he rolled to absorb some of the impact. 

Move, was the only word he spoke to her. The beautiful storm had left his eyes, replaced by hard iron as he quickly rose to his feet and prepared himself.  

He did not have long to wait for the attacker to reveal themselves, but the manner left him unsettled. Normally his Gift afforded him the advantage of recognizing the other’s position, a ‘second sight’ of a fashion. But in this instance the attacker was simply...there, as though they had stepped from nothingness, simply choosing suddenly to exist on the street before him. There were gasps and cries from the handmaidens, who the individual turned to regard quickly before turning back to Landel.  The attacker was small in stature, lithe, but their movement and posture spoke of experience and strength. They were garbed in black, simple garments with no hanging cloth to obstruct movement. A hood and mask were drawn about an unseen face, casting an impenetrable shadow. If they were of the origin Landel suspected, he knew instantly that this was a foe to be respected. 

While the tabard and belt upon his shoulder had been thrown free by the fall, he still held tightly to the scabbard and sword in his hand. He moved quickly to free the blade from its home. His attacker moved even faster. In an instant they had closed the distance between, drawing a long, thin blade from its sheath in a single smooth movement and lashing out at the hand upon the hilt of his sword. Landel, still startled by the attacker’s unnatural and sudden appearance lifted sword and scabbard to deflect the blow, forced to remove the hand he’d placed upon the hilt as the lighter blade was instantly redirected towards it. The attacker pressed their advantage methodically, but quickly, keeping Landel on the back foot, forced to retreat as blow after blow was directed his way. 

Leanne had pushed herself up from her position on the street by this time and watched in horror as Landel fought for his life. The spark within her that marked her Gift for fire flared into a blaze, but her connection to the flame did not afford her the ability to use it to harm, try as she might now. Instead, she quickly stumbled to her feet and rushed to the handmaidens, who were standing or cowering where they had stopped, terrified by what was now happening before them. 

Don’t just stand there, she chided them. Go find help! 

Leanne turned back to Landel and the attacker, and both royals watched as the figure hesitated for a moment and quickly turned to look towards the queen and handmaidens, considering. A decision was reached, and the attacker turned back towards Landel, deciding it best to finish what they had started, but the hesitation was enough for Landel to press his own advantage. His free hand flashed forward and snared the wrist of the attacker’s sword hand. With a modicum now of control, he twisted viciously, and, with a cry of pain, the thin blade clattered to the cobblestones as Landel brought the sword and scabbard in his other hand forward, catching the attacker with a blow across the face. As he prepared another, his hand suddenly emptied, and he was again left astonished as the attacker vanished before his eyes.  

Even reaching out with his Gift, reading the wind, he could find no trace. All that remained was a sudden rush of air into the space they had occupied previously. When the winds spoke again, it was not enough to save him as the attacker reappeared beside him. Both hands grasped the scabbard in his own and with a quick movement, Landel fell roughly to the ground without it. His weapon was quickly thrown to the side and replaced by a pair of daggers, and it was then that Landel turned to the only tool that remained to him, his Gift. 

Giving himself to the will behind the wind, he gathered it behind his hand and swept it left to right. A dense rush of wind followed the motion out from his hand and caught the attacker across the legs, sending them tumbling to the ground. As he came to one knee, Landel gathered the winds again and pushed forward towards the attacker, who was already quickly finding their footing again. Another solid blow of air caught them across the shoulder and lifted them a few inches from the ground, sending them spinning into another hard fall. In control of the fight once more, Landel rose from the cobblestones as wind whirled in a vicious cyclone around him. Leanne could feel the force of it from where she stood, see the dust on the stone around him lifted and swirling about Landel’s intimidating figure. The attacker picked themselves up slowly, regarding Landel calmly before stepping to the side and disappearing once more, as though behind an invisible wall. This time, Landel remained calm, simply allowing the gale to increase in force, swirling around him as protection.  

But it was not enough. 

Leanne watched as the figure suddenly reappeared within the calm of the storm around her husband and plunged one of their daggers into his side. Landel gave a short gasp, inaudible to any but himself, and he reached back in a trance of pain and bewilderment. Before his hand could reach the blade in his side, it was pulled free and he was pushed forward, tumbling to the cobblestones. The violently swirling air dissipated quickly as his focus was lost and the words of the winds receded again to the back of his mind. Slowly, he pushed himself to his knees as his attacker and would-be assassin circled to his front. Landel knew this fight was over; he had lost.  

From this distance, even in the gathering gloom, he could see the eyes beneath the hood. In spite of their death dance, they regarded him calmly, but cautiously. Landel raised his head and straightened himself in spite of the pain. If he was to die, it would be with dignity. The assassin sheathed their daggers and retrieved the long, thin blade from where it had fallen on the street, returning to stand before the injured king. Unseen by them both, Leanne had begun to move. Almost unconsciously, she had stood, and her feet had carried her slowly closer and closer as she watched the scene before her. She understood what was happening, but her mind rebelled in disbelief and shock. This wasn’t happening. 

It could not happen. 

As the assassin’s blade was lifted and aimed carefully, Leanne made her decision and darted forward. The force of the thrust pushed the wickedly sharp blade through her body, between her collarbone and left breast, far enough that the now bloodied point still caught ever so slightly against the skin of Landel’s neck. Catching the attacker’s surprised gaze, Leanne’s eyes blazed with a protective fury until the pain and damage quickly took their toll and she collapsed to the ground. The attacker had released their sword, letting it fall with Leanne’s body, and the point drew a shallow, bloody line across Landel’s throat. Time appeared to freeze for them both as she fell. 

The impact of her body, bleeding and motionless, brought them both back to the present and Landel was confused to see an immediate and obvious change fall over his attacker. Gone was the calm demeanor, the silent confidence and posture. The small, black-clad figure now seemed almost...lost. The violet eyes were full of surprise, panic...regret. The sound of boots, loud voices, and rattling steel heralded the approaching guards who now answered the call for help. The attacker once more vanished, stepping back into the nothingness from which they came, leaving Landel to cradle the listless body of his wife, still bearing the attacker’s sword within. 

The call to arms rang within minutes, and the calm of near empty streets were swept into chaos of a pointed and demanding nature. Hastily clad members of the city guard and knights of the royal family flooded the streets of the city from their homes and posts as the word spread. If caught, there would be no mercy tonight for the assassin who had entered their home.  

Without so much as a whisper, a figure suddenly appeared outside the walls of the city, stumbling as she took a few steps onto the cool grass before falling to her knees. Her hood was thrown back and hair blacker than the night sky rolled free. The mask was pulled swiftly from her face. She took no notice of the gash upon her cheek that the blow from the hilt of the king’s sword had dealt or the pain as the cloth of the mask pulled away from it. Her breath came in quick, panicked gasps as she grasped at the turf beneath her trembling hands. Her mind played the woman’s actions on repeat, throwing herself before the deathblow, the pure fire of her amber eyes regarding her in silent condemnation and defiance. 

Zinnia found it hard to control her body as she heaved with sobs. She wanted to cry out with the anguish she felt, but knew it would be nothing but a death sentence. It took all her effort to calm herself enough to get a handle on her breathing and the sobs faded as she focused on each shuddering breath, in and out. Her mind focused on the tenets she’d been taught so long ago, repeating them over and over to wash away all else from her thoughts. It took far longer than she desired. 

She was a professional, an experienced and accomplished killer. Reactions such as this she was supposed to have done away with. Indeed, she had not experienced such dismay and distress for many years. It wouldn’t do to have those memories resurface, particularly now, and Zinnia redoubled her efforts of mental repetition, pushing all thoughts away until she felt confident enough to stand. The commotion within the city was already growing louder and closer as the haphazard patrols of warriors bent upon vengeance began to extend their search. She could not stay any longer. Zinnia affixed her mask with a wince, finally noticing the gash across her cheek, and pulled her hood up once more. With steps as quiet as the night, she moved northeast, disappearing into the darkness.

Chapter 2 

With steel-blue eyes , Embry regarded the chaos of the city from his lazy, hilltop perch, leaning haphazardly against a small tree. The rolling shape of the surrounding land afforded a wonderful view of Mel’anon and its obvious state of disarray. While far enough from the city that sound could not reach him, watching the tiny, nearly indistinct shapes of people moving about, Embry could still infer a good deal. The throne-cities of the Six Kingdoms were of great and varied size, bustling with the business of travelers, merchants, and artisans, combined with their own citizenry. The people within garbed themselves in a mixture of colors and fashions and, from this distance, their ill-defined forms shifted and undulated as though a painter’s palette had sprung to life. 

While this ever-changing mass was normally interspersed with the occasional flash of light from the steel of guards and sellswords, the commotion of Mel’anon fairly shimmered in the midday sun. The city guard were out in force, their numbers great enough that Embry wagered the streets were filled with a good number of the royal guard as well. A small line of individuals stood at the gates into the city, stopped by an abnormally large contingent of armored men interrogating newcomers and visitors, inspecting goods and persons. No common criminal enterprise warranted such a heated response. Something of grave consequence had taken place.  

Embry was familiar with manhunts and the like. He earned his living from the needs of the desperate, the disgruntled, and the disgraced, and this work brought him face-to-face with trouble of that sort more often than he cared for. Business of that kind was messy and complicated, and he bore the scars to prove it. Mel’anon was not a place he wished to visit in its current state, particularly given his own...disposition, though there might be vital information to be had within. His mark might even be within the city itself, but that was a problem he would deal with later.  

Taking one last bite from the apple he’d been eating, Embry pushed himself away from the tree’s trunk and tossed the fruit over his shoulder. Turning away from the sight of the city below, he faced his horse, Shade. She was a large, strong beast with a coat and mane of such dark brown