Klavon set the book on the table and exited the secret room. He crossed his candlelit chamber to the window that overlooked his shadowed realm. In the distance, sunlight attempted in vain to break the wall of dark clouds, and he could see the shadow of Fraenir, in dragon form, circling the massive expanse of his kingdom, watching for any who would falter in their allegiance. That was as he liked it—domination and darkness.
“Klavon,” the young girl said, her hair white as a newly woven spider’s web, “it is done.”
Sira entered so quietly he did not hear her, and a thin smile creased his lips. She was extraordinary, and he valued her skills, even if it did pull from his powers—not that she wasn’t more than capable in her own right, but with a sorcerer, her powers grew tenfold. Besides, he was strong enough to maintain his sorcery and accommodate such a unique assistant.
“I have lit the beacon,” she said, “and I’m certain the boy will see the amber light.”
Klavon nodded and looked out beyond the boggy mire to the land beyond. Fourteen long years he’d waited…he could almost see her face.
“Shall I send Fraenir to make sure Prydon doesn’t interfere?” Sira asked.
“There is no need,” said Klavon. “Prydon is dead.”
“But—”
“Do you doubt me?” asked Klavon, his voice venomous with a cold, steady conviction.
“Of course not. But his kind can be quite tricky.”
“So you doubt Fraenir.”
Sira didn’t speak a word. Even without facing her, he knew what she thought—that while Fraenir’s only talent was battle, he was no match for Prydon.
Her lack of response made Klavon laugh. “Prydon is dead, I assure you. Fraenir is stronger than you believe. The boy will make it here, and nothing will interfere.”
Klavon did not see Sira leave, but he knew she would. She was not one to extend conversation beyond the words that were needed, at least with him. As he heard the quiet click of the door closing behind him, he walked slowly to a tapestry on the wall.
Slithering behind it, he returned to the hidden chamber, glided to the center of the room, and picked up the book. A wicked sneer curled along his lips, and with a wave of his hand, the book flew open. A single page ripped from the spine by some unseen force, and with another sharp twist of his hand, the page was shredded to pieces. As they floated to the ground, he could hear the screams of some distant voices…and he smiled, breathing in deeply of their pain.
He thought of tearing out another page, but no. He would destroy Brandor’s inhabitants slowly, leaving those behind to cower in the knowledge that they could be next. Instead, he set the book down and walked back into his main chamber, once again staring out the now completely darkened window.
“Soon, my sweet, they will all be gone, and you will have no one…but me.”
Chapter Four
A Visitor in the Night
Darius and the Dragon's Stone Page 4
