Buorlan stood in front of his office door. He pulled the key out of his waistcoat and wiggled the key into the old lock. The door swung open smoothly.
Too smoothly.
Buorlan reached for the power within his chest and wound thick tendrils of energy round his veins, pulling slowly till it reached his fingertips. He kept his face neutral and his body relaxed; a mask of calm. His index finger traced the glyph for a barrier and his second finger traced a binding.
Buorlan stepped through the threshold taking stock of the room. The setting sun was level with the windows. He covered his eyes against the blinding light. Then turned away as he shut the door and checked for anyone hiding behind it. The two armchairs were empty. Buorlan narrowed his eyes against the bright light. He checked over the contents of his desk. Everything was just as he had left it. The intruder had been careful not to move anything.
The light shifted as the sun sank lower. Something moved in the left window frame. Buorlan leapt backwards and steadied himself against the door.
A man stood in the window frame. He leaned back with his arms crossed over his chest. He wore a dark blue shirt, the colour of the night sky on a full moon, decorated with gold and silver jewels like stars. The shirt joined at the neck with four diamond buttons down to the middle of his chest, then opened and draped to his knees. A pair of slightly lighter dark blue pants rested low on his waist, leaving a small amount of chiselled abs visible. He ran his hand through his wavy shoulder length hair and looked down on Buorlan.
Buorlans stood frozen. His clothes were odd. Perhaps it was a new Ruolin style? But they preferred free flowing fabric and frills. Maybe he was an eccentric merchant? He must have a death wish by revealing himself.
The light coming through the window behind obscured the figure in shadow with a halo around his body.
Buorlan locked eyes with the figure and fell backwards.
He felt slick blood dripping between his small fingers as the dagger was pried from his hand. The metallic stench of blood filled his nostrils. The sound of his mothers soft cries as she held him. He felt tears rolling down his cheeks. His vision blurred then cleared. The sound of flames spluttered to life. Smoke clung to his mouth taking away his breath. The image of his mother terrified and screaming in terror as the flames slowly climbed up her body.
"Come back. That's it." The stranger said. His voice was low, the sound travelling through the air straight to his ears. The voice lingered in his mind.
Buorlan gasped for air, his heart pounding, trying to escape his chest. The stranger stood before him with his hand out steadying Buorlan's arm. He slowly looked up at the stranger. Fear of being locked in his own mind again making him apprehensive.
The intruder looked humanoid but he was no man.
"I won't take another look. I was simply curious what drives a man to betray his King and put another in his place?"
Buorlan took another deep breath and wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked up into the man's face. The intruder had a youthful appearance and a black symbol etched into his right cheekbone.
Buorlan pulled the Tue but the pool remained still. The power that had given him strength all his life lay dormant. Fear surged through his chest. He was just a man before this creature. He was powerless and without a weapon.
"What have you come here for?" Buorlan asked with a slight tremor.
Buorlan looked over at his desk for something that he could use to defend himself. His letter opener was in the top draw but it would take too long. His quill sat on the desk behind the newcomer. He needed to move naturally so as to not arouse suspicion. Buorlan walked over to the drinks table and poured two glasses. He lifted one towards the creature with his eyebrows raised.
"I much prefer red myself." The intruder responded but took the glass anyway.
"I take it you want something?" Buorlan responded as he sipped his whisky. The alcohol stilled his nerves.
The stranger nodded and took a sip of his glass.
"Out with it." Buorlan said, testing the creature's patience.
The intruder laughed. "To the point I see." He smiled wide and took another sip. "I want to keep an eye on you."
Buorlan looked puzzled. "Am I allowed to know why?"
"No."
The creature drank the last of the whisky. His fingers began tracing lines on the side of the glass, his eyes never left Buorlans. The intruder offered the glass to Buorlan. As the glass grazed his hand the creature closed both his hands around Buorlan's, holding tight. The creature's voice became a sharp whisper grating inside his skull. Pain bloomed from the edge of the glass burning white hot into his palm. Buorlan tried to pull away but the creature had a firm grip. The energy ignited, licking his skin and grasping deeper at his veins travelling from his hand to his chest. He fell to his knees, the glass tumbled to the ground. He gasped for breath and cradled his hand to his chest.
Buorlan knelt on the ground letting the seconds toll as the pain slowly subsided. He breathed deep and slowly. He lifted his hand and looked down at the mark. Burnt into his hand was a black eye staring back at him
Buorlan looked around him. He opened his mouth to demand answers but he was alone.
*****
Ilrune Volus walked down the corridor of the Palace. A chill ran down his spine. He placed his hand on the hilt of his long dagger.
The evening's darkness was broken by the distant yellow glow of the festival coming through the windows.
"Stange place for a meeting?" Iepho said. He stood with his arms folded, leaning against the wall a few paces away.
"We are both busy men and should get back to the festivities before anyone notices our absence." Ilrune replied. "I have a proposition for you, one that will benefit us both.
"Midnight is a thorn in the crown's side. I will recover my reputation and you will take sir Buorlan's glory. I wonder who the King will appoint the next Chamberlain when you have proven you can do the work of two men?"
Iepho raised an eyebrow. "You're rather good at painting fanciful pictures without explaining how the paint gets on the canvas. Might I remind you Midnight has fled the city and I don't have time to be chasing her across the continent."
"Midnight is a performer who loves attention. But she is also cunning. Like any good magician she distracts her audience while the real trick is happening somewhere else. Her antics at the winter solstice and the gold fiasco were, likely Buorlan's influence, a ploy to distract us. She came to Athon for a reason and she will be back."
"How do you know?" Iepho asked.
"My people questioned each of the metal workers about her. The foreman said she often went up to the roof of the warehouse. A cash of gold was hidden up there. She will be back for it."
"Fairies live for centuries. It's rumored the run away princess was born over two hundred years ago. How do you know she will return soon?"
"Buildings crumble in time. There are safer places for her to stash gold than on the roof of a building that will be gone in a few centuries."
Iepho checked his pocket watch. "I need to get back before I'm missed. I will have someone watch the roof. If I catch her I will make sure his majesty knows your involvement." Iepho pushed off the wall and walked away. As the door opened the sound of distant laughter and merriment escaped. Ilrune waited a minute.
The shadows behind him shifted. Ilrune drew his dagger and threw back the curtain. A man in a dark outfit and wavy black hair smiled at him. Ilrune raised his blade to the man's neck.
"Who are you?" He asked.
The man tilted his head to the side with a mischievous smile. He looked down at the blade against his neck. "This is a sharper reception than my first visit this evening."
Ilrune pressed the blade against the man's neck. "Wha…"
The blade shattered into tiny pieces. The shape of the blade held in the air for a few seconds before falling to the ground. The man reached out and grabbed Ilrune's outstretched wrist. The hilt of the blade tumbled across the ground. The man carved a symbol into Ilrune's palm. His knees buckled as the pain erupted from his hand. Time lost all meaning as he sat on the ground, breathing through the immense pain. Ilrune's hand dropped from the man's grip.
He lifted his stinging hand and looked down at the mark. Burnt into his hand was a black eye staring back at him.
Ilrune looked around him. He opened his mouth to demand answers but he was alone.