The chatter from the common area of the inn broke the rather charged silence, prompting Midhir to speak up, albeit hesitantly.
“I’ve been having visions of a woman.”
The Lord Enforcer’s gaze focused on him. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion.
“A woman wearing white, walking down a wide hallway. The floor and the walls were all white, like marble, and the woman had long, black hair that went all the way down to her knees. She steps into a round chamber, and bites her own flesh,” Midhir watched as the enforcer’s eyes widened with what he could only describe as shock. “You know her – or the event.” He was sure of it, and Lord Aulorn hadn’t done a good job hiding it at all.
“Of course I know – I killed her.” Lord Aulorn shot a glance towards the common room, making sure nobody was listening in. “She was Duchess Valery’s eldest daughter, and the next in line to rule the Olisar province.”
This time, it was Midhir who had no words as his heart sank. The next in line to rule Olisar meant her status was more or less the same as Alistair’s. “What happened?” he asked, his voice but a whisper as he tried to make sense of it.
Lord Aulorn folded his arms. “She was possessed. Her highness the princess and I got to her in the middle of a ritual – a resonance cast with blood, made to tear the veil apart.” He raised his chin. “But she’s dead, and the spirit possessing her is gone. Why would you dream of that?”
The heir of the Cathain family had died – in the hands of the Lord Enforcer no less. “The Old One is trying to tell me something…” he whispered absentmindedly. How come had he not heard of this? Lady Larna was adored by her people, she was constantly out there, trying to help those in need. How come had news not already spread? And once they did, what kind of unrest was this going to cause?
Lord Aulorn pressed his hand against his forehead. “I shouldn’t have let it come to this…” The regret in his voice was palpable. “I should have taken you back to the capital as soon as our work in Bareon was done.” He raised his decisive gaze. “The Old Faith cannot be trusted. No matter how helpful it seems, it will cause harm – great harm. Once we are done with this,” he gestured vaguely towards the door.
“I’ll go see mother,” Midhir cut him off. “I know. I waited too long already.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll go and meet with the others now, we’ll wait behind the inn.”
“Your highness,” Lord Aulorn said as he turned to leave. “I urge you to be wary of what the Old One shows you. Lady Larna tore the veil apart twice before we stopped her. I won’t make the same mistake a third time.”
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Midhir tightened his jaw. While the words weren’t spoken outright, the Lord Enforcer was crystal clear. “No,” He said curtly. “You will not. Because my sister won’t – and I won’t let that blood be in her hands.” He hesitated. “If it comes to that.”
Lord Aulorn’s eyes narrowed. “Be sure that it does not.”
He found Alistair sitting on a hay bale put up against the hind wall of the Prancing Lion. The young Orlein was fiddling with a daisy in his hands. His gaze was cloudy, his mind somewhere entirely different.
“Where are the others?”
Midhir’s words startled the young noble. His gaze shot up as he let go of the daisy. “The stables,” he pointed towards them. “They wanted to make sure the horses were well taken care of.” He scowled. “Arwen said she didn’t quite trust the stableboy.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why she thought so. Where had you been?”
“I wanted to take another look at that… thing.” He lied as he sat next to Alistair. “I can’t believe they actually carried it all the way into the inn.”
Alistair nodded. “They did well, their courage is commendable.” His gaze drifted off once more as his voice dropped off. Moments passed in silence as they waited.
Approaching footsteps alerted them right before Lord Aulorn turned the corner of the inn. Arwen and Willow were right behind him, hurrying to keep up with his pace. “We’re moving out,” he announced, only sparing a glance towards the students.
Vaulting over the wooden fence behind the Prancing Lion, they headed into the overgrowth. Lord Aulorn walked with his sword in hand, his gaze constantly scouring his surroundings. His steps were surprisingly quiet as he led them forward, towards the lake the elderly woman had told them about.
The forest canopy blocked some of the sunlight, but it wasn’t nearly as dark and oppressive as it was around Bareon. Instead, there were gaps in the canopy, and leafy plants and colourful flowers grew between the trees’ roots. The sound of flowing water faintly reached them, though the leaves rustling with the soft breeze mostly drowned it out.
They hadn’t walked for more than a few dozen steps when they reached the lake. The lakeshore was blooming with life, and they could see a shallow creek merging into the lake seamlessly. It was a peaceful, serene scene, though something was missing. Something bothered him, though he didn’t quite know what.
“Nothing weird here,” Willow muttered, looking around with some confusion. “We are at the right place, aren’t we?”
Lord Aulorn nodded. “Up the creek,” he said, gesturing them to follow. With hasty, yet cautious steps, he hurried on.
For a while yet, everything seemed in order.
Midhir suddenly scowled as he finally noticed it. “It’s too silent,” he hissed, reaching for his earring, and summoning the sword-spear. His gaze scoured the branches above them – where were the birds and the small critters?
While the others prepared their weapons also, he walked a few steps ahead. There was an odd sound in the air – a faint ring that seemed to grow stronger as he continued to walk. His brow twitched, and he narrowed his eyes as he tried to pinpoint its source. The ringing was growing stronger, but it was difficult tell where it originated from. Circling around a rather tall tree with a conjoined trunk, he suddenly felt his boot sink into the wet ground. The smell of rot, blood and something awfully sour hit him.
A sharp pain struck his eye as his gaze landed on the tear in reality, mere steps away from him.
It was beautiful.