Prologue
It was a dark, moonless night in the city of Theera . Even the bars had
closed, and the last of the drunks had stumbled home. Everywhere was quiet, or,
at least, everywhere but a garden on the east side of the city. There, a pair
of shadows played a desperate game of hide and seek.
“Please come out,” pleaded one of the shadowy figures.
“Don’t make me do this, Shanio.”
Shanio was huddled behind a bush, clutching a small
bundle. He stared silently into the darkness, praying to the gods that he
wouldn’t be found.
Apparently none of them were listening. The bundle
stirred, then woke with a loud wail. Shanio hushed the tiny newborn girl,
rocking her back to sleep, but the damage had been done. Their seeker was headed
in the direction of the bush.
Shanio stepped out of his hiding place. He knew his game
was done. “Tenrius, please don’t take her now. Give me a few days.”
“I’m sorry, old friend,” replied Tenrius sadly. “I would
if I could. Don’t you trust me?”
“I trust you with my life,” Shanio said. Then he looked
down at his precious bundle. “But not with hers.”
“Then this is out of my hands.”
A pair of hooded and cloaked figures appeared out of the
darkness, one on either side of Shanio. None of their features were visible,
but Shanio knew what they were. “No,” he whispered, and looked pleadingly at
Tenrius. Tenrius looked at his feet. The baby began to wail again.
Then time seemed to slow, like everything was moving
through some dark, viscous fluid. One of the hooded figures raised an ugly,
clawed hand, his sleeve trailing behind like the tail of an eel. Soft green
light condensed around the gnarled appendage, wavering like sunlight seen from
underwater. Then, slowly, the awful hand with its rippling green corona moved
toward Shanio. He stood, frozen, unable to scream, unable to run as it came
closer, closer to his chest.
When
the hand was about a foot away, the light leaped from it to Shanio. For a
second, they were joined by the glow. Shanio gasped, and then moaned as the
light vanished into his chest. Around him, the world began to blur and sway.
One of the figures plucked his daughter from his arms. “No,” Shanio whispered
again. Then he crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The figures vanished into
the night.
Tenrius
knelt beside Shanio. “She will be safe,” he murmured. “I promise.” Then he,
too, faded into the shadows.
Shanio,
king of Theera, lay unconscious in the gardens of his palace until morning,
three hours later.