The Conjured and the exiles

Daen met her lord as he entered through the gate. Per stopped dead with a snort, startled by the girl’s sudden appearance. Daen offered her hand for him to sniff in apology; the tall dark brown horse eyed her reproachfully and demanded that she scratch between his eyes in reparation. Daen obliged him.

‘My lord.’ Daen greeted Darcia enthusiastically, unable to hide how happy she was to see him.

‘Daen.’ Lord Darcia replied warmly, reflecting her smile, though wearing his helmet the woman would not have been able to see.’

‘I’m so glad your back. There is quite a lot you need to be told about!’

Darcia had not noticed at first, the fresh air lending color to her cheeks and brightness to her eyes, but Daen looked a little worn. She was looking up at him almost anxiously, and it made him wonder what had been going on in his absence. ‘Get up and then we can talk on the way up to the stables.’ Darcia said, holding out his hand in an aid for her to mount up behind him on Per.

‘Per must be exhausted!’ Daen protested.

‘It’s only a short ride. Our journey returning has not been that arduous. And you are hardly heavy.’ Darcia replied, instinct telling him that what the girl had to say may well have been important. And so without further demure Daen took his hand, and by placing her foot on his swung lightly up behind him.

‘So what’s been laying on your mind little one.’ Darcia asked after he chirruped the horse on. Daen could not answer right away as Per bounded forwards in to a bouncy canter practically on the spot, demonstrating to Daen that her fears for the animal was unfounded, it was if he was insulted that she had dared to question his strength. The woman griped her lord hard about the waist in her efforts to hold on. However with an almost imperceptible shift in the saddle of the horse’s master Per slowed back down to a sedate walk.

Daen breathed a sigh of relief, as sitting behind the cantle of a saddle was hardly comfortable. ‘It’s the nobles, they suspect you of treachery.’ Daen explained quietly.

‘That dose not sound unusual.’ Darcia sighed. ‘What have they been saying?’

‘There’s a rumor going around that you left with the captains to attack certain nobles holdings while they left them defenseless.’ Daen explained in hushed imperial.

‘I should have foreseen that.’ Darcia said. ‘I expect that Kef has fallen in to an indignant silence, he is too protective sometimes, and that has probably not helped any.’

‘Yes captain Tann has been as you said. And it was not helping at all. The nobles who up till then had not been worried all of a sudden started getting anxious.’

‘Who.’

‘Well the most vocal are Lord Hobin, Lord Alum, Lord Halsowen and his brother, Lord Midras, and Lord Braess.’

‘Lord Sindri?’

Daen shook her head, ‘No, he hasn’t said anything. In fact he had been very calm over the whole thing.’ Darcia didn’t say anything, but Daen knew that he was surprised by that news. Despite his preoccupation Daen decided to report to her Lord as fully as she could the events in his absence, he had told her once before that it was often hard to tell what was important until you heard it, and so she tried her best to tell whole story as far as she knew it. That way he would be prepared to meet his court who no doubt by now would know of his return. Daen weighed up how much she should tell Darcia about her own experiments in politics, but from experience she had learned that Darcia would find out the full story one way or another, and if he was going to be angry about it, it would be far worse if she didn’t tell him herself.

And so she began a fairly coherent account of her deeds over the past few days, including her collaboration with the scout captain. If Darcia was surprised or annoyed by any of this he did not comment on it. Only asking questions when he needed more detail on something. For the most part he was glad that Daen and Vespa had made some sort of move to crush the rumors, not that he was going to worry to much about them. His return alone should be enough to destroy any rumors that he was leading attacks against his nobles keeps.

‘I have a job for you.’ Darcia finally said.

‘A job?’ She asked curiously. He glanced back at the girl who rode double with Veione. Daen followed his glance, for the first time noticing the blonde captain’s small passenger, a young girl, who looked as frail as a daisy picked from the ground soon to wither. ‘Who is she?’

‘Her name is Cira, she and her infant brother were the only survivors of Cyrch.’

‘What happened to that village?’ Daen asked quietly.

‘It was practically raised to the ground, everyone slain, but nothing taken. So it was not the Meiw.’

‘Who then?’ Daen asked growing more curious.

Darcia shifted in the saddle, ‘I don’t know yet.’ He sounded a little defeated. ‘That’s why I need you to try to get the girl to tell us all she can. If she saw what happened her testimony could be very useful identifying the assailants.’

‘Who do you think did it?’

Darcia let out a long sigh. ‘I don’t know, I have my theories, but no proof.’

‘Why would someone do something like that, destroy a whole village for no reason at all?’ Daen said sadly, griping closer to her lord, pressing her cheek against the stiff leather of his cruisers.

‘I wish it was for no reason, but I fear that there are more machinations behind this attack than we can see. It’s like moving through the fog and only been able to see what is in front of us.’

Daen, pleased to be able to use her healers knowledge looked over the two orphans. Physically there was very little wrong with them. The baby boy in particular apart from been a little thin was perfectly well, if a little anxious because of the constantly changing presence of strangers who handled him. Daen worried that the baby would not eat, but she need not have worried as the infant emptied a bottle of warm milk lustily.

In the little girl however Daen saw signs of deep trauma. She had worn the same look when she was not much older after seeing her mother’s murder. Daen was at a bit of a loss as to why Darcia had given her the children to look after. She had some experience looking after her younger cousins, but all the same what did she know about infants? In the end Daen sought out Avis, who with four young daughters knew a grate deal more about children than Daen did.

Kef opened the door to his chambers and glowered at the young woman, but Avis spotting Daen from her place at the table poring out some tea. ‘Daen, dear girl come in, what can I do for you?

Daen glanced up at Kef as he stepped aside, not one to cross his lady’s will. Avis looked at her expectantly. ‘I wanted some advice.’

‘Oh, well let’s discuss it over some tea.’ Avis answered, a small glance at her husband sent him back to his work repairing some battle harness in the corner of the room. Very quickly Daen was sat at the table, with its pristine linen table cloth, and a steaming cup of tea set before her, and Avis encouraging her to say what was on her mind.

‘There were some survivors from the village that was raided. A little girl and her baby brother, Lord Darcia brought them back with him. They had no kin, and because of the horror of the raid people think that they were tainted by it..’

‘Oh, that’s terrible, I hate those stupid superstitions!’ Avis exclaimed with real outrage.

‘I know, I thought the same thing. It’s so silly.’ Daen agreed. ‘The only thing is that I have no idea where to start looking after a babe, I can look after the girl, but I have never looked after a baby before and I just needed to know some things about how to look after a someone so young.’

Avis smiled, ‘Daen, don’t worry too much. I would be happy to look after a baby.’ She looked at her husband. ‘Wouldn’t we dear, you always wanted a boy about the place didn’t you?’

Kef let out a brief ‘Hrumph.’ And then replied, ‘More work.’

‘Don’t mind him.’ Avis chuckled. ‘He has been in a bad temper all day. It would be nice to have another babe about, four girls, he loves them all of course, but you know men, they all want a boy about to play wooden swords with.’

And so Avis decided to adopt the small children for the time being. Daen thought it would be good for the small children to be in a normal family home, surrounded by other children. And as gruff as Kef was Daen had seen him with his girl’s and even some of the younger pages, he was happy as a big dog to play with the children, wrestling and throwing them up in to the air, catching them as they laughed. She showed Avis to where she had left the infants napping after their long journey.

‘I will take them first thing in the morning, I wont do them any good to be moved tonight.’ Avis said wisely. ‘The poor things so young to lose their families.’

‘Cira doesn’t speak much; well so far actually she had not spoken at all. I don’t know what the boy’s name is, and I suppose we won’t until Cira decides to tell us.’

‘It will make a change from my girls, they won’t shut up!’ Avis laughed almost to herself. ‘The shock must have made her mute. In time she will snap out of it.’

‘We can hope.’

When Avis left the small girl sat up, and looked at Daen. Even though the girl wouldent reply Daen thought it best that she told her what was going on. ‘That was Avis, she is a very kind lady, and she will look after you and your brother.’ The girl looked dubious. ‘She already has four girls of her own, they look very like you, and I expect you will like some girls your age to play with. Kef her husband look’s scary, like a bare, but he really isn’t.’ Daen looked at the girl, ‘He isn’t as scary as Lord Darcia at least.’

The girl’s eyes widened for a moment. Daen smiled, in the stillness catching ripples of the girls thoughts, like looking at the light reflected off a pool of water, or a sent on the wind. ‘Don’t worry, I was terrified of Lord Darcia when I first saw him.’

Cira’s blue eyes met Daen’s for the first time. The thought passing across her mind this time was, ‘How did she know I thought that?’

Daen smiled softly, ‘Don’t worry Cira, you don’t need to talk.Would you like to here a story?’

The girl nodded, and settled back down beneath the covers. Daen began to tell the small girl a fairly common children’s story, but quickly stooped when the girl began to cry. ‘Oh I see, you mother used to tell you these stories didn’t she?’

The little blond girl nodded. Daen sighed. ‘If I tell you a story your mother didn’t tell you would you like that.’ The girl nodded in response again after taking a moment to think.

‘Here I will tell you the story of Aeno, I don’t think you will have heard it before?’

The little girl shook her head.

‘Ok then. Aeno was a princess far, far away to the east, long, long ago in the time before legends. She was very beautiful, but she was also very sad, her mother was a unicorn, but her father was human and so being of neither people she was often lonely.’ Daen smiled. ‘And before you ask how that is possible, I will let you know that unicorns could change there shape at will, and could look quite human if they so should wish.’

‘In any case Aeno was often very unhappy, she was left out of all the children’s games, and was ignored by the adults. However one day a grate and terrible demon who ruled a clan not far from them attacked with his demon minions. Knowing that she had magical powers Aeno defended her people from attack. You would think they would have been grateful, but instead they were scared of her grate power, and so she left them. It was then she anciently wandered in to the lands of the demon who she had just recently defected. There was a village, and the people welcomed her, as the news of her victory had reached them, instead of fearing her the people welcomed her, and asked her if she would help them rid themselves of their demon overlord.’

‘Aeno herd there woeful story, how the demon prayed on their children at will, and how he had people punished for no reason. And so with a brave heart she went right to its very keep where she confronted the demon.’ Daen realized that she had forgotten the name of the demon carried on as best as she could, ‘The demon was huge, red and scaly, with two horns that swept back from his head. He was old and powerful, and crafty. He changed himself in to a comely man to entice her, but she was not swayed and using her magic she defeated the demon. From then on she became the advisor to the new human king, and married a fine young lord, having many children…’ The girl was asleep. Poor little thing Daen thought. Yet another child who had to grow up without their parents, and all for no good reason. If she needed a reason to help Darcia in his aims then here it was. As for Cira, all Daen could pray for was that the girl’s wounds healed with time. Daen almost laughed, did wounded ever really heal, had she really ever gotten over her mother’s murder. Probably not, but over time she thought less of it, when she did it could still bring her to tears, but it no longer haunted her mind as it once had.

Suddenly deathly tired, sad for the children and having her own painful memories dragged up, Daen left the room. She went and changed for diner, getting herself in to a stiff taffeta gown. She checked herself in the mirror, but regretted it as she looked weary. She patted some cold water on her hair hoping to look more refreshed; however she didn’t hold out much hope. During diner she managed to hold up a decent conversation. But she was heartily glad that Lord Darcia had returned, and was the center of the noble’s attention once again, allowing her to enjoy her food as she had not done for so long.

Darcia knew that he would likely face a circus when he returned back to Bala. However it was not nearly as bad as he thought it would have been. Quite the change had come over Daen, before the ball she had been shy in company. But in his absence she had blossomed, becoming what ever she had it in her to become before he growth had been stunted by her own family’s crimes against her. She was charming, she always had been, but more than that she had a way with words, a skill at reading people that was helping her win over the hearts of his turbulent nobility more swiftly than he had thought possible. He wondered how much of it was her natural appeal, and how much of it was her clairvoyance, as whether she knew it or not her instincts were probably too good to be intuition alone.

The noble sought some time alone with Daen to talk to her about the girl, exited about her precognitive powers. He managed to untangle them from the conversations of the various nobles who sought both of their attentions. Once he had her alone he asked her, ‘Have you spoken to the child about the attack yet?’

‘No.’

Darcia gave her stern glance. ‘Daen, it’s imperative..’

‘Look, I’m not saying I won’t do it, just not tonight, it’s too soon, and she has only just got here.’ Daen replied placating.

‘Tomorrow then.’ It was not a question.

‘Stop, I can’t believe you! The girls still in shock, I won’t talk to her until she is ready to.’

‘I never said talk; if I wanted her to talk I didn’t need to bring her all this way. You can look inside her mind and see her memories for yourself.’

Daen looked shocked, at first Darcia thought that it was because he had found out another of her little secrets, but he reconsidered when she demanded of him. ‘Do you know how dangerous it is to put someone through that, to drag them through that kind of trauma again when they haven’t healed from it?! I can tell you having repressed memories dragged up its not pleasant in the least!’

‘She would recover, and for the sake of the kingdom.’

‘Not everyone is as strong as you are!’ Daen growled, her green eyes flashing with true anger.

‘Daen!’ Darcia grabbed hold of her arm as she turned to leave.

‘Let me go.’ Daen spat at him, with a dark look and a firm tug she freed herself from his grasp. ‘Do what you will, but I will use my judgment, and my powers as I see fit.’ Darcia stepped back, and looked on frozen in both his rage and his shock as the woman stalked out of the room, her head held high as a queen.

Daen brushed her way past Timor who was just entering through the door in a rustle of fabric, and a cool glance. He entered the room to see Lord Darcia, watching the retreating woman, looking torn between staying and going after her. He raised a questioning brow, and Darcia rubbed his brow in frustration. ‘Perhaps I was a little quick in been pleased about Daen’s new confidence.’ He then laughed a laugh that started softly, but soon rose to its full volume, a deep loud laugh that came from the very bottom of his chest.

‘Sire what is so funny?’ Timor asked extremely confused by his lord’s strange behavior.

‘Oh Timor, I think that the joke this time is one me.’ Darcia managed to say when he caught back his breath. ‘I wanted a Sybilla, but I think I have found a queen.’








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Captain Nadar was somewhat disappointed that he could not spend more time in the capital city. He would have liked to have brought himself some things from the market, a new belt, some new boots, a few other bits and bobs, and some time with his favorite whore, a pretty little woman named Chrysanta, it didn’t mater that, that was not her name, as she was sweet, willing, and as beautiful as the flower that was her name sake. But not tonight, he had to wait upon a meeting with his lord. A man who Nadar suspected had never had a day of pure fun in his long life. They went over every minute of the plans they had already discussed over and over again. Nadar was a meticulous man himself, but Lord Edouard with his legal mind was ceaseless. The captain suspected nerves, after all Edouard was not a military man, or a strategist, after all that was why the captain had been hired.

Lord Edouard sat at his desk. He looked as placid as ever, and his voice was soft and deliberate as ever but his brown eyes were sharp, grave. ‘We have some disturbing news from our informant. Apparently Darcia has managed to find himself a sybilla.’

The captain raised his eyebrows; the term was entirely unknown to him. ‘A sybilla? Is that some kind of weapon?’

‘Not quite. A sybilla is a form of prophetess.’ Lord Edouard answered him.

‘I’m not religious.’ Nadar shrugged, not partially concerned.

‘Religion dose not really have anything to do with it. Sybilla’s deal in spirits, like witches and warlocks. Only they don’t just control them but having one spirit guide they can speak with spirits directly without aid.’ The noble explained.

‘And what has that got to do with us? Is she going to call up a ghostly army?’ The captain scoffed. ‘Last time I checked ghosts cannot harm you if you’re not sensitive to them.’

‘That’s true enough. But Sybillas are reputed to be able to read minds.’ Nadar was struck silent, his mind working out the implications of such a person. Edouard saw the shock on his warrior’s face.‘Our informant as you might expect is a little anxious that if the Sybilla’s powers mature any further they will be compromised.’

‘Perhaps we should kill him before that happens.’ Nadar offered ruthlessly.

‘I think not, they are still to useful.’ The noble smiled wearily before he pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘The sybilla would be a better target, else she could become a real thorn in our side. Right now she is still only a novice, she had yet to have had any real visions, but I don’t want to risk it, we would be better off getting rid of her as soon as possible.’

‘And how do you propose we do that?’

‘I believe that I will leave the job entirely in your capable hands. I have no interest in how it is done as long as it is done. Though I do request that it is quiet, I want nothing that could get back to us.’

‘Naturally. I think I have some men who could do the job.’ Captain Nadar smiled, bowing and excusing himself from his Lord’s presence, to clame as much of the night as his own as he could.




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The sky above Nheim was iron gray, it was cold, but it did not snow this far east, as the warm current of water that brushed past the Nheimmian coast kept the small appendix of land fairly temperate. The atmosphere in the city fortress of Althalvard, in its native tongue, or High rock in imperial, was subdued. A lone man stood on the highest rooftop garden of the carved out mountain keep, playing a pipe as long as his body. He played a keening song, a song of morning. He would play until dawn even as the wails of the mourners faded away exhausted as they spent the night in vigil, knelt on woven mats, grieving and watching for the dawn to rise over the horizon.


Dawn did eventually brake over a new day, and the mourners stood up stiffly. A middle aged woman swathed in the traditional black garments of a married woman lent on her son’s arm. She wept still, though she had no more energy for tears. Her face was a liturgy of grief, her son’s eyes were red rimed as well, but for now his tears had stopped. He supported his mother along down the spiraling stone staircase, worn smooth with the passing of centuries. ‘It would not be so bad if we had his body to burn, to make sure that his soul was free to go to Helu.’


‘The righteous who always carry the spirit of Helu in their hearts need no funeral pyre to join him isn’t that right Tuma?’ The young man said to the priest who walked only a few steps behind them.

‘That is very true Koto. Your father I am certain sits with Helu now, his death was in his service, as was his life. But he shall be greatly missed.’ The priest replied solemnly.

‘Thank you brother Thuma, you are as ever a true friend.’ The widow bowed.

‘May Helu light your way.’ The priest said in farewell, Koto and his mother repeated the prayer in parting.

Once they reached the cavernous grate hall at the bottom of the stairs, Koto’s uncle Artakha approached the pair. He bowed his head in greeting. ‘We grieve for the loss of our kin, my most beloved brother. May he reside with Helu always.’ The widow did not meet his eyes, nor did Artakha really look at his dead brother’s wife, to him se had always been little more than a shadow, instead his attention was entirely on his brother’s son. ‘Koto, it would please me if you could make time to see me this evening after you have rested.’

‘I could see you now uncle.’ The young man replied.

‘No, no, the night vigil is hard on all of us.’ He smiled. ‘Youth eh, no, take some rest and see me at day’s end.’

‘Yes uncle, where are we meting?’

‘Come to my private rooms.’ His uncle informed him.

Koto bowed his head and his mother though transparent to the man bowed low as was a woman’s place. She watched the retreating back of Artakha sadly. He would have her son now as well, and the circle of revenge and retribution would never end. But she had no voice with which to protest.


The sun began to set over the canyons, darkness came first to those rooms that were built in deeper shade, and night fell earlier still at the base of the rock faces, already small oil lamps were lit across the void, like golden stars. The widow’s apartments still caught the sun yet, pale white light from the winter sun. The widow had a small hearth fire going, more for warmth than to cook upon, for she had no apatite tonight.

Koto had just roused from his afternoon nap, as he entered the room his mother looked up at her son with doleful green eyes. She knew what was on her son’s mind, but she could not stop him, just as she had not been able to stop her husband. She was not of the Oror family; she had just been married to one, as one who was not Helge by birth she had no voice with which to disagree with the families will, though she feared that this seeking to avenge the Oror’s family honor would only bring more woe down upon them.

Her son sat down across from her, though he had the right to he did not take his place at the north of the fire; the place that had not long ago belonged to his father. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he to then stared in to the heart of the fire. The widows heart clenched, at his expression, he was the spiting image of his father, the last peace of him that she had apart from the scent he had left that was all to swiftly fading.

‘Koto, do you know what you are getting yourself in to?’ She asked softly. ‘There is no shame in…’

‘Mother, he was my father, it should be my revenge. It was my responsibility in the first place. If I had not….If I had not chosen to leave her alone then father would not have gone after her.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Mother, I overheard you speaking with him before he left. I know father thought that once she was dead I would choose another bride. I wish that I had told him that it was not as simple as that.’

The widow looked pityingly across at her son. ‘He would not have listened even if you had told him, he was too stubborn.’

Koto looked up, ‘Then you should know that I am like my father, and my mind will not be changed upon this.’ He undid the lacing on the front of his shirt and revealed the rune that was burned in to his skin right over his heart. ‘It’s my duty now. I no longer have a choice.’

‘Will you hear the story behind all this before you say that again?’ His mother asked him levelly.

Koto yawned. ‘What more can there be to say about the story, Daen was found guilty of using the old forbidden magic. She brought shame upon the family, and for that she must be killed.’

‘No that is not the whole story. As ever there is just secret upon secret in this place.’ The widow said, she indicated to the walls, ‘secrets that have sunken in to the very rocks of the walls.’

‘What do you mean?’ Koto asked. It was rare for anyone to speak of the past, apart from the priests and what was regaled in songs and traditional stories. Though he felt that there was some danger in hearing what his mother wanted to say, it still beckoned like ripe fruit above him, this secret knowledge.


‘The whole sorry tale starts with your uncle Sheald’s secret marriage to Aelan. No perhaps it was an older story than that. Back before even my grandmother, back five generations, with the exodus of the Isra following the grate schism.’ Koto nodded when his mother paused, looking at him, making sure he understood. Everyone knew of the Isra’s exile, families who were cast out for persisting in their use of the forbidden arts. ‘Many families had been touched by the trials. But the fall of the Aenokan’s one of the foremost Helge families had been the most shocking. The Aenokan’s were among the oldest and most powerful of the Helge. But they were almost destroyed as family member after family member was branded a heretic, to either be exiled or burnt at the stake for their blasphemy. However some members of the family survived, it would never be what it once was, but it limped on as other families rose to prominence filing in the void they had left.’

‘Arlan was a daughter of the Aenokan family, or what was left of it. For the most part the remainder of the family lived in seclusion, poor as peasants, on the borders of our land with the empire. Aelan, like her daughter after her was a most beautiful creature. And it was said that Sheald when he was sent to patrol the borders spotted her washing clothes in a stream and instantly fell in love with her, abandoning his family to hare a life with her in an obscure little village. Although your father told me that Sheald had already fallen out with the family in some way before that.’

‘Though it was not good that Sheald left the family, at least he had married and settled down even if he was no longer a swords man. One day however Arlan was murdered, no one knows for sure who, but the wounds were made by sabers.’ The widow said with meaning. ‘ It was also well known that the Serkan of the Oror’s extremely opposed the match, because of the Aenokan family link, claiming that Arlan’s blood was tainted. If Rahim had not spoken up for Daen, then she would have been killed as a child.’


‘Perhaps it would have been better for all of us if she had been.’ Koto said bitterly, his face set in to a deep melancholy.

The widow sighed wearily. ‘Rahim, and your father both argued that a child could be brought up on the righteous path. That it was not her blood that tainted Arlan, but the wicked way in which she had been brought up.’

‘They would have been wrong though wouldn’t they?’ Koto answered.

The widow looked at her son sadly, wondering when he had become so heartless and bitter. The widow knew the look in her son’s eyes, her husband often wore it, she would not win an argument with him now, and he would not listen. She waited, biding her time, as her son was by far more curious than her husband had been. She could practically see the questions racing about his head. ‘Why do they think her blood is tainted, what has her lineage got to do with magic? I thought magic just forbidden knowledge?’

‘It is, all good worshipers of Helu know that to use magic is abhorrent, it’s unnatural, and an abomination to twist the natural world in such a way. Yet in the time before people worshiped the good god Helu, when only Daear the mother of all, and her daughter Loer, a time of legends, long before we wrote our stories down when demons once reigned..’

‘Mother I’m a little old for fairy stories.’

She glowered at him. ‘Hush, much can still be learned from fairy stories, stories forgotten to the men of our people, but which are passed down from mother to daughter through the time, wisdom hidden in tales, wisdom so dangerous that they could be regarded as heresy.’

‘Mother if it’s heresy I don’t want to here it! And it’s dangerous of you just to speak it!’

‘Be silent Koto, this story is no more dangerous than anything I told you as a child. I expect you have heard it as a child at some point, but listen closely with a man’s ears. Long, long ago, during the time of legends, when humans did not write there stories down yet, creatures we only hear tell of in fairy tales once walked the world, terrible demons and powerful unicorns, created by Lloer as her personal servants, reflecting both her dark and light faces. They ruled over many of our peoples, using them as slaves to do their will. But the people then could do nothing about it, for what good is a sword against such magic’s as the Demon’s and unicorns possessed. What good are flint arrows when they could call up a wind to stop them, or jade knifes against skin as hard as iron?’

‘However Demons and unicorns could change shape, they could make themselves look human, and often in this guise they bedded with humans to create half-breeds, neither human nor of their kind. And so magic was introduced in to the human blood, and those with those blood lines could harness the magic’s of their supernatural ancestors. The time of the Loer clan however was growing short, immortal though they may be; there were few of them having fought grate wars amongst themselves. A young half blood was born, a girl who was the daughter of a grate clan leader, her name was Aeno, she a half unicorn, learned from a demon who fell in love with her, a powerful being named Bherith how a demon could be slain. When she escaped him she found out that she was the last of her kind, as a unicorn she was a sworn enemy of the demons, and so she showed humans how a demon could be killed with weapons made form their own kind, by trapping the soul with a very special spell, making them in to swords…’

‘This is all nonsense!’ Koto exclaimed.

‘Perhaps, but their are some grains of truth in it, Aeno, was the first ancestor of which the Aenokan dynasty was founded, Kan in the old runes means blood. Aenokan, means Aeno’s blood.’


‘I have to go.’ Koto said standing up; he came over to kneel by his mother. She petted her son’s hand, and let him go to him. The whole story had been nothing but a tale of misery upon misery, and it seemed that until the girl, her own niece was killed and the blood line purged there would be no end of it. She had hoped that once Rahim had helped her to escape that would be the end of it, that once exiled she would be forgotten about. It was with this hope in mind she had gifted the girl a small purse full of coin. Later she had to lie to her husband saying that the girl must have stolen it. It was a guilt that had lain on her breast since then, but now her husband was dead, and she never had the chance to admit to him that she had once lied to him.

Koto walked briskly across the cool mosaic floor of the grate hall, across to the western caverns, the private rooms of his eldest uncle, the Serkan of their family, the very head, who’s job it was to guide and help the younger members of his clan. A clan whose core members seemed to be growing thin, cursed apparently buy the girls wicked magic’s. His father now, Rahim, and no one knew what had happened to Shaeld, the girl’s father, so only one of the four Oror brothers were left alive, all the direct decedents of the son of Helu, the first prophet. For a long time he did not believe the nonsense about the Aenokan curse that so many of his family members whispered about in the shadowy corners of the room, as if by saying the words in daylight they would make it real. And now all that his mother had told him, about demons and unicorns. It was ridiculous and yet…

He glanced over at the small door way which leads to where the weapons were stored. Long lines of blades hidden away in the dark, and beneath those in stone boxes like tombs, sealed away by magic runes, were the demon swords, a secret that had only been reveled to him on becoming part of the order. When he had been lead down in to the cold dark and shown the glistening blades, blades that whispered and murmured if you listened close enough. His father had told him of the Aenokan curse then, when Daen had already fled, that since they had killed her mother, unless they killed off her hair as well then the curse would go on, claiming the life’s of the murderers and their kin.

If that was true it would mean that his family had been the ones to murder Daen’s mother. Perhaps she had not been using magic after all, was this all just because of an ancient fear? The bind rune on his itched slightly in warning, and Koto quickly decided to lay of that line of thought. After all he had seen what a bind rune could do if you went against it, uncle Rahim had died, a horrible gasping death because he helped the girl, and the bind rune stopped his very heart. Koto defiantly did not want to dye like that, frothing blood at mouth in thick pink foam.


Walking through the door made of beads Koto approached his uncle. Artakha’s son Larne stood beside his father. Larne was a few years older than Koto, but Koto was taller by a head, and this pleased him greatly. Dom, Artakha’s other son was not standing far away, his wife Kath upon his arm, even her volumous black robes could not hide the swelling lump she carried, and judging by the tight, colorfully embroidered kyrtle she wore, she did not seek to disguise it. With a smile she left the men to their business.

In the room also were four of Artakha’s cousins, fully trained swords men and witch hunters. They sat cross-legged on the bare floor, backs as straight as true steal, faces hidden in the shadows of their cowls. They wore the same dark garments that his father had so often worn as a member of the order. ‘Ah Koto, now everyone is finally present.’ His uncle said almost cheerfully, but his face soon turned solemn. ‘Koto, we grieve your loss, you lost a father, and I have lost a much beloved brother. But his loss should not be in vain.’ He looked about the gathered men. ‘I expect that you know why I have called you all here?’

Koto looked around the assembled company, and nodded, as did they. Artakha nodded in return, ‘Good then I need not demure. We know where the girl is, it is our duty to see that she is sent in to the arms of Helu, willingly or not. It is growing to be an embarrassment..’

Koto almost was stirred to interrupt, a spark of anger kindling in his eyes. His uncle noticing it put his hands up, ‘Koto, I did not mean it as an insult. Your father went in alone, to an imperial Lord’s strong hold. I have however found out more about the imperial in question, a duke to the west.’

‘Then it is worse than we feared.’ One of Artakha’s cousins spoke up.

Artakha inclined his head, and drew out a small peace of parchment. ‘Much worse I fear, the Duke in question is of the Darcia family, the last known family to hold the sword Bherith.’

The room fell in to a heavy silence. The younger members of group looked to there elders for an explanation, perturbed by the grimness that came to all of the witch hunters faces. Artakha began to speak again, this time addressing himself just to the hunters. ‘I see that I don’t need to explain just how bad the situation has got. The girl needs to be separated from him immediately!’

Koto looked at Dom and Lanre who all were as confused as he was. Dom was the first to speak. ‘Father, what dose all of that mean?’

‘It’s possible that the girl is able to free the demon from his bonds.’ One of the witch hunters replied.

‘So you see, we have no choice now but to go after her.’ Koto’s uncle continued. ‘Fortunately I have found some help in the form of another imperial noble. I don’t want to trust him, but he seemed willing to help us get close to the girl, apparently he had some sort of grudge against lord Darcia. The question now stands, will you go?’



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Daen lay on the bed, stretched out across the bed where she had thrown herself down upon it; to comfortable to move. Lying on her back she turned her head a fraction to watch as her lord padded bare foot in to the room, still wet from his bath. He wore nothing but toweling cloth wrapped tightly about his loin, and in the lamp light his skin glistened with the evaporating moisture. He paused in the doorway for a moment as he toweled his hair roughly. ‘Daen.’ He called softly.

Daen did not answer, but pretended to be asleep. He sighed and moved closer. ‘Daen I know your not asleep.’ She still refused to answer. ‘Daen, I’m…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you so hard, or the girl, its just, there is a lot riding on this.’

She remained quiet for a moment, but then decided to answer; she knew it was hard for Darcia to apologize. ‘I understand. But even magic takes time, you can not force it. When you began to use Bherith it took time to harness him did it not?’

The noble looked over at his sword, ‘Yes I suppose it did. I will try to be more….er understanding but I can not promise anything.’ He answered as he left her, to go back in to his study.

As if drawn buy an invisible cord Daen got up from her prone position and followed him through. Darcia sat on his leather chair, in front of the roaring fire place as he finished drying off his hair. Daen dallied a moment, admiring the way the muscles in his back flexed, and moved beneath his skin, and the light made the water droplets glow golden and red before she came behind him, taking the towel he was using from his hands.

‘I will help.’ She offered, and at his brief ‘Hmph’ of amusement she began to towel his long inky hair, far more gently than he had been. ‘You know you should be less rough with your hair.’ Daen chided him.

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s lovely.’ Daen said with a smile as she took up another section to dry, it was her way of showing forgiveness.

Darcia laughed softly, ‘Lovely? I don’t think I have ever been called that before.’

‘I didn’t say your lovely, just your hair.’ Daen snorted.

‘That might explain your obsession with it.’ He replied, as he lent his head back, closing his eyes enjoying Daen’s attentions.

Daen ran her fingers through the length of it admiring its color. ‘It’s just so…black, like a raven’s ring. And I have never seen such long hair on a man.’ She let her hands pass through it again. ‘There’s so much of it as well, it’s like a curtain of heavy black silk.’

Darcia’s hair had been complemented by other lovers before. But it was the completely fascinated look on the girl’s face that so entranced him, her artless words meant more to him than all the skilled words of courtiers. It was perhaps the first complement that she had ever paid him. He opened his eyes slowly, and looked up at the tranquil face of the woman above him, taking in the angle of her jaw, the soft pink of her skin in the candle light, the strong line of her brows, and the soft swell of her lips; lips that he had not tasted for three days, though it seemed longer.

He decided to rectify this massive oversight at one, and catching hold of her own hair, he tugged gently encouraging her to lean down, and once she was within range he drew her closer to him with one arm, and then drew her mouth to meet his. For a moment he thought that she might fight him as she tensed, but the moment his lips brushed her own she practically melted against him. By the Gods, if there ever was a woman who was more susceptible to his touch he had not met them. He felt his desire stir, embers kindling hotter.

‘Oh little one!’ Darcia murmured, his voice dropping an octave, he pulled her down on to his lap ‘Only you could rouse me when I am so tired.’ He drew Daen even closer to him, pressing her to his bare chest. He guided her hand to his groin; to demonstrate to her just how exited her presence made him. He felt the nearly imperceptible tremble along the girls arm as her hand cupped the bulge hidden by the towel around his loins. He groaned throwing his head back when she rubbed her palm over it, causing the most delicious friction.

When he opened his eyes, Daen was staring back at him, her cheeks tainted rose, and the look of curiosity, excitement, all tinged with a little fear was present on her face. He stood up his nostrils flared like a stallions, and he drew her in for another kiss, tangling their tongues together.


Daen couldn’t control her desire any more, her dark lord had it had unleashed it and nothing was going to quench it now, nothing save his touch. Right now her nipples felt stiff and aching. Longing for more contact she gasped between kisses ‘My Lord, my breasts, I need..’

He nodded, understanding instantly, his hand unlaced her nightee, and his palm slipped inside to seek out her unbound globes. Darcia loved the feel of her satiny skin so warm to the touch against his palm, as he kneaded and rolled her firm young flesh.

Daen threw her head back, allowing access for Darcia to attack her neck with fervor, licking, nipping and kissing every bit of exposed flesh. It still wasn’t enough, and he pulled her white cotton robe up over her head without a pause, only to take her nipples in to his hot demanding mouth, as his fingers found her core, as she knelt over him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was glad that he had chosen these chairs so long ago, big and roomy. He was also aware that he was despite his fervor really quite exhausted, and that because of that this session probably wouldn’t last long, and so he needed to work her in to a very exited state before he had his fun.

He worked her with his clever fingers, until she was panting, gasping and clinging on to his broad shoulders as if she was going to collapse at any moment. Her soft moans and the heat of her breath on his neck was driving him crazy. He picked her up, and carried her through to their bed, pleased that his own legs were holding up. As soon as she was placed on the bed he was upon her, kissing and writing against her nubile body.

He managed to role her on to her side, and arranging her leg carefully entered her from behind. The feeling was a satisfying homecoming. Though this position would not allow for such depth or speed, it was comfortable, and would not make his body ache any more than it did already from days in the saddle. Daen voiced her approval at this choice with a series of quivering moans.

Darcia as he lazily thrust in and out, had the opportunity with his free had to play with Daen’s slick petals or her rosy nipples, both of which only served to heighten her pleasure, much to the dark haired mans glee. He could also sit up a little to look down at her flushed countenance, enjoying the way her eyelashes fluttered as she lost herself to the sensations he was evoking. Daen’s free had had found his arm that was taped beneath her head, and had twined her fingers through his own. A gesture which the Lord found strangely moving.

Daen could hear his very pant, and soft groan that he attempted to stifle on her shoulder. He was always so quiet, but the noises that he did make only served to tern her on more, knowing that he experienced the same pleasure that she did. His thrusts were becoming a little more irregular, and his hot breath washed over her neck almost constantly now as he was drawing near. Knowing this warmth spread through her body, starting at the base of her spine, but radiating out to every limb, and along her hair or so it seamed to her. And so her release washed through her, causing her to make a soundless, ‘Oh.’

Darcia was not long behind her, his to was not a pounding rush, but something more gentle, and warming. For a while they lay together, Darcia not unsheathing himself from the woman, enjoying the heat of her body and the closeness for the time being. It was good to be home. For now they could forget everyone else, if just for tonight, some part of him knew that he would have to face up to the implications of this bedding, but right now that did not matter, she was in his arms, she was his, and he could right now whisper to the sleeping girl that she always would be his, come demons, floods, or war. It was something he had perhaps decided as long ago as when he first saw her in that dark dungeon, who knew she would turn out to be such a find. For four thousand heads he had found his soul mate, it must have been the bargain of the century.


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a/n; This chapter took an age! All hell is about to brake lose in the coming chapters, so be prepared!

Thanks once again to all my regular readers and reveiers, they are masivly encoraging.