“Consort Mother, You tread strange paths,” came the Knight’s voice from behind the cracked helmet.

Involuntarily, my grip on The Sentinel tightened. The helmeted visage turned in the direction of the blade, held its attention for a moment before it returned to glare at me.

“Why are you here?” I asked summoning my courage.

“Strange questions you pose, Consort Mother,” came the reply.

“Who or what are you?” I asked sensing no threat from the Knight of Ash and Smoke.

“I am simply.......” the knight struggled to answer and a brief moment of silence spanned between us.

“Let me ask this way, where are you from then?” I continued.

“I came from my realm,” answered the knight.

An answer that was precise and useless, but the Knight was willing to engage and conversation means gaining information.

“You were born there?” I purposefully phrased the malformed question, knowing full well that the extraplanar being before me does tangle with the same sense of mortality.

“Born?” repeated the Knight as if the concept was familiar and still alien, “no, I merely existed. Or rather willed into being by my Sovereign’s fancy. Or I existed before in the realm but gained consciousness when my Sovereign became the Monarch.”

We are making progress. Now I need to infer the identity of this mysterious Sovereign.

“Why did your Sovereign demand you to come here?” I questioned the eldritch being.

“Not demand,” countered the Eldritch Knight, “Decreed. But you, he compelled.”

“I compelled you?” I asked astonished at the revelation.

Only utter silence was the Knight’s reply. Instead, the eldritch knight considered my bleeding hand again.

Sensing no aggression from the creature before me, I slowly lowered The Sentinel and tore a piece of cloth and bandaged the wound.

For a brief moment, I considered the possibility of the Knight of Ash and Smoke being a figment of my imagination generated by the perception-altering spell. Eventually, shuffled the thought to the back of my mind.

Ignoring the Knight, I walked closer to the destrier and led him back on the path to Arlond. The eldritch knight simply followed.

“Relinquish the blade, it was not bestowed to you,” said the knight with emotions that conveyed no threat, “It has a master. Not you.”

“So you know where Celerim is?” I countered.

“The will of my Sovereign, I enforce but the intentions of my Sovereign are not for my knowledge,” said the Knight of Ash and Smoke.

“Besides, our Sovereign abandoned us,” added the Knight almost as an afterthought. A waft of sadness issued with his words, the only emotion that came from behind the helmet.

“Then why the blade?” I asked with curiosity at his answers. A domain abandoned by its monarch is unheard of. After all, who would willingly relinquish power? After a fleeting moment, I scoffed at the absurdity.

“The Dame of the Demesne will have the blade,” came the answer.

“The Dame usurped your Sovereign?” unconcealed disbelief issued with my words.

A wheezing sound, much closer to a sneer came from behind the helmet.

“Is there something I am missing?” I asked.

“You jest, Consort Mother,” replied the Knight of Ash and Smoke, “For all began with you and yet you fake innocence.”

I pondered the information that I gleaned so far.

A domain abandoned by its monarch.

Now ruled by a Dame instead.

The Dame of the Demesne’s interest in The Sentinel.

Assuming that the Eldritch Knight before me is not a product of an illusion spell. That is a possibility I still need to consider.

“Consort mother, if I may be permitted to ask, What is your intention?” asked the Knight as he matched his pace with my destrier’s gallop.

For a brief moment, I pondered the Eldritch Knight’s question. For all the mask of surreptitiousness providing reticent, the question seemed earnest.

“Celerim was dear to me,” I still struggled with words.

“Your current mate?” asked the Knight of Ash and Smoke.

I threw up a little in my mouth at his notion. I struggled to articulate my connection to Celerim. I finally settled on 'adopted' as a suitable word.

“More like an adopted son,” I explained.

“Adopted?” The Knight of Ash and Smoke repeated as if stroking his infinite memory, “not from you but still the same status like the one from you.”

“Will you surrender the blade?” The Knight tensed suddenly.

“Will you help me get Celerim back?” I countered.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Venerable Consort Mother, if you want the elf, take it with the Dame of the Demesne,” the emotionless voice behind the helmet returned, “I only ask for what does not belong to you.”

“If you want the blade, then you are free to attempt,” I answered with words dripping with vitriol.

“I cannot cross the blade. Not with you. Not against that blade,” replied the Knight with yoked anger.

“Then let me make you a bargain,” The sly smirk crossed my lips.

“A mortal offering me a bargain?” If there were no helmet, I was certain I would have had the pleasure of glancing at the Knight of Ash and Smoke’s bemused face.

I grimaced in response and raced my destrier. The Knight caught behind and gave a deep throaty and sanguine chuckle.

“I now see your ways, Consort Mother,” replied the Knight of Ash and Smoke.

“I had some companions with me when I started, but we are separated. Help me meet with them and you may have The Sentinel,” I offered.

“A bold bargain,” said the Knight circumspectly, “You indeed meddle with forces beyond your comprehension.”

“I do what it takes to get by,” I answered with a grimace and nudged the destrier further along the pass, towards Arlond.

*****

Twice, we were accosted by ravenous dire wolves and twice we send them scuttling away. They came baring their dagger-like fangs and scattered like mangy mongrels. In my hands, The Sentinel became vivacious as if it gained free will. The knight encased in armour attacked amidst a sea of wolves, ignoring defence. Neither their sharp canine teeth nor their brutal pounce could break the resolve of the Eldritch Knight. For one who dispatched eight reflections of angelic warriors and humiliated the Paladin Champions, the dire wolves fared no better than stray street cur.

As I wiped the blood from The Sentinel, I cast a glance towards the Knight of Ash and Smoke.

“Your Sword skills, is it inherent or combat honed?” I asked.

“Inherent?” The Knight pondered openly, “Only my Sovereign could know. But honed in combat, I have.”

“Where else did you fight?” I engaged while my brain kept turning in circles listing all the great conflicts where extraplanar entities were involved. A warrior of his calibre would not have gone unnoticed.

“Defending our realm,” came the unexpected answer, “in the absence of my Sovereign.”

Archfiends vying for each other’s domain or internal power struggle between princes of hell are a standard paradox in itself. But something about the way, he phrased the statement made it more ambiguous.

I am nowhere closer to getting my answer.

“You have enemies?” I stated with feigned curiosity.

“Immortality is not the same as invulnerability,” cautioned the Eldritch Knight.

“Even we are prey to some,” said the Knight after a moment of silence.

At his words, the mists that camouflaged clarity dispersed.

“That is why you have your domain hidden, from all,” I exclaimed.

The Knight of Ash and Smoke simply nodded.

My inner voice of reason rang out, overriding all my other emotions. Demon civil wars are not something that mortals should get embroiled in.

With that we made a good distance without any further exchanges, till Arlond loomed ahead.

*****

Arlond, loomed ahead in the evening dusk, like a once polished pearl that lost its radiance and let some unknown darkness dwell within. A darkness that seemed to consume the light in its vicinity. The dilapidated grey walls still held robust, protecting stalwartly whatever that resided within. No smoke rose from the chimneys beyond, no light danced behind the lonely windows. Behind those city walls, only a host of phantom revellers awaited us.

A lone isolated pylon erected, stood out in the eerie scenario. Made of a dull grey metal or alloy and reaching as tall as the sentry towers in the city walls, the pylon radiated a feeling of unease. As we approached closer, the grooves and indentations running across the surface became evident.

As I removed the gloves to ran my finger across the surface of the pylon, the eldritch Knight held my hand with a firm grip.

“Caution Consort Mother,” said the Knight of Ash and Smoke.

“I am not an alchemist or master smith, but this is definitely not from here,” I finally said.

“I am inclined to your opinion on this. The material is alien to this world,” he replied.

“But you know of its origin?” I asked.

“No one knows of its origin,” answered the Knight.

“So what is it meant for?” I asked no one in particular.

“Left here,” added the Knight, “See those.”

My eyes trailed followed the crease pulsating along the surface. The occasional cavities near the indentures almost connected them to form an unknown network of arcane design.

“Control,” uttered the Eldritch Knight.

“Over what?” I asked with befuddlement, “or what? The pylon is a mechanism?”

He extended his gauntleted fingers and pointed to a few cavities and indentures.

“Control the structure,” he said with struggled words.

“But what does the structure control or who controls the structures?” Frustration mingled with anxiety made my voice arose higher.

The Knight of Ash and Smoke stood still like a statue. After a long moment of silence, the Knight eventually spoke.

“Consort Mother, why do you convene in such a place?” he asked.

“I would not be in this situation if you had not taken Celerim by force,” I shouted.

“The Sovereign decreed, but he compelled,” answered the Knight of Ash and Smoke.

“Yes, I know. You did not like coming here but you were forced. You have abandonment issues because your Sovereign left you and your Dame does not acknowledge you,” I threw my hands in frustration, “Work on it in your own free time. I need answers now.”

“Your anger is misdirected,” hissed the Knight.

“Do you know who erected these structures?” I asked composing myself with a deep inhale.

The Knight shrugged.

“But you have seen these?” I asked.

“I have,” acknowledged the Eldritch Knight, “it belongs to the pristine void.”

The extraplanar being before me was clearly addled and sensing the futility in continuing the interrogation, I ignored the macabre pylon and proceeded on foot towards the gate of Arlond.

*****

As I crossed the threshold, the grim gated portcullis stood transfixed, covered in years of rust and creepers that grew on the uninhabited city. The air stank and the eternal silence threatened to overwhelm.

A maelstrom of emotions surged suddenly and threatened to deluge me in its torrent. A single voice of clarity rose amidst the sea of calamity, urging me to dodge to the sides.

I dodge rolled forward, narrowly missing the large arc left by the wide swing from the Eldritch Knight.

The Sentinel sprung into action in my hands and with a tight grip, I pointed the sword towards the Knight of Ash and Smoke.

We both circled each other as we maintained the distance between us.

With a flick of my wrist, I countered the Eldritch Knight’s overhead swing. As The Sentinel clashed against the Knight’s ebony blade, the latter staggered for a moment.

“This is a place of vile tenebrosity,” uttered the Knight with struggle, “The realm more important than....”

And then he leapt. His jagged ebony blade snaked around, but The Sentinel was faster. I scored another cut across his shoulders.

“I cannot be here,” uttered the Knight between sheer agony.

I lowered my hips and stiffened my shoulder as my fingers curled around the hilt, ready to strike.

“Consort Mother,” he pleaded finally, “kill me.”

Only a hard squint and furrows on the forehead marred my face at his obtuse request.

Watching my trepidation, he added, “Ephemeral life for you. Ephemeral death for us.”

In an action conveying his intention, the Eldritch Knight threw his ebony blade at my feet.

With only the still silence and the cold zephyr as a witness, I rushed with the ebony blade in hand.

An extended lunge aimed at the only open spot on the helmet, I drove the jagged blade through the eyes of the Knight of Ash and Smoke.

The being before me convulsed for a brief moment before dropping to the ground. His ebony blade, still held in my hand turned brittle with his death.

At a distance, from Lowcrag Pass, figured stirred towards the gates, forcing me to grab The Sentinel and seek safety in the desolate Forlorn Fair.