DarkFyre Ch. 20

Shortly, Ricard returned with the writing tools Rael requested. The Nobleman penned out a short letter in his tight, cramped hand. As he wrote he said, casually, "Tell me, Brother. Any news in The Reach these days?"

The look Brother Ricard gave Rael was touched with befuddlement. "The Reach? I'm afraid there's not much in The Reach to make news of. Red rocks and red dirt and dry days and tired travelers passing between towns that realized too late that The Reach isn't a good place to live out your days."

"And what of the Airborne?" Rael asked as his pen scrawled across the sheet.

"The SkyRacers?" Ricard asked, then shrugged and scratched at his nose. "They're as they ever are, I suppose. Isolated. Alone. Quiet, and scornful, just the way they like it."

"Pity," Rael mused. "I'd thought of going to Ser. I've heard it is a place of wonder. But I guess they're no more welcoming to outsiders than the stories claim, then?"

"Probably less," Ricard grunted. "The SkyRacers keep their own council, and don't suffer visitors lightly. It is a shame, though, as you said. I've heard the tales myself. The city is said to be unlike any other."

Rael nodded and fell silent, satisfied that he would get no answers about the SkyRacer's from the monk. He sprinkled the pinch of sand that Ricard provided onto the ink to dry it, shook the excess off, and read quickly over his missive.

Galin,

Greetings, Cousin.

The road finds the kitten and I well and in warmer climes. We rest our weary soles for a spell before resuming our march on the long road.

I heard the most interesting news. The unending tide from the Grass Sea we both sailed on is on the move. It went east to the great hermit birds in the Red Nest.

I don't know what became of that visit, but I find it passing strange.

Isn't that interesting, Cousin? I'm sure you and I are not the only ones who would find it so. There must be others who watch the patterns of the Grass Sea's tide, and would find this a most unusual development.

The road goes on. Our rest will be brief, but a swift reply might reach me before I gather my cat and move on.

I would be very interested to know your thoughts on this matter.

Your wandering Cousin,

Ed.

Rael grunted. It was vague and intangible, but that was as specific as he dared be. Any number of spies could put eyes to the message before it was in Galin's hands. He had to trust that the old Knight would be able to take some meaning from his words.

"Here we are," Rael nodded. He folded the parchment and handed it to Brother Ricard, who took it with a gentle smile.

"I'll see it to Brother Victus. The raven will be gone at first light."

"Thank you, Brother," Rael smiled. He fished a silver from his coin purse and slid it across the bar top. "I do believe that bath sounds mighty fine right now."

"Very good, sir," Brother Ricard smiled, pocketing the silver. "Very good, indeed."

***

The moon hung heavy that night, low and full of portent. The great old face in the sky was swollen, and there were flecks of blood about its pock marked face.

Brother Ricard sat in the modest den in the dormitories of The Brotherhood of The Tower.

His eyes, an overpoweringly ordinary sort of brown in the daylight, shone burgundy in the soft fire of the small, simple hearth.

The burgundy eyes scanned the tight, cramped hand writ out over the short letter one more time.

The Brother wordlessly flicked the letter into the fire.

"You are sure it is him?" the man in the shadows of the den asked. His voice held the cracking whisper of breaking glass.

"I'm sure," Ricard nodded.

"It will take a few days for The Empty to gather," the glass-voice said, fracturing, screeching, shards rubbing together and grinding their edges in a dark throat.

"I can stall them," Ricard assured his visitor. "They will stay. All will be in order."

"Do not fail us," the voice popped like the splintering of the stained glass of the temple outside.

"Never."

The voice was gone.

Ricard began to shake. Failure would be death, and so much worse.

He raised his left hand and his sleeve fell away, leaving him staring at the intricate, long-forgotten runes burned into his skin.

***

...Yeah, then that had to happen.

*****

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