Martin Hengst - The Darkest Hour

She could appreciate the logic in that. Somehow, though, she didn’t think that the Xarundi would much care about how many mages there were. They’d breed as many bodies as they needed and throw them at the walls until they fell.

“The Xarundi might,” she said with a sigh.

The look he shot her was plainly disbelieving. “These creatures may be savage, but surely they don’t think they could take the city. That’s just not reasonable.”

Tia threw her hands in the air. “These aren’t reasonable creatures, Wynn! They believe they are the Chosen. They believe that they alone have the right to rule over every race on Solendrea and they’ll stop at nothing to ensure that they see that to its end.”

She took a knee next to him, so she could look up into his face. “Don’t you see? That’s why we need you, Wynn. That’s why we need to find out as much as we can about this relic. What it is. Where it might be. How to find it. Your skill could be invaluable. You could save hundreds, maybe thousands of lives.”

The mage rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. His eyes were troubled and Tiadaria felt sympathy for him for the first time. It wasn’t all that long ago that her entire world view had been challenged. She knew what a shock that was.

“I don’t know,” he finally said, meeting her gaze. “I can’t believe that these…things…would attack Ethergate.”

“Maybe they won’t,” Tiadaria agreed. “Maybe they’ll just kill as many men, women, and children in the Imperium as they can, then enslave the rest. Then Ethergate will be the last human settlement they haven’t destroyed or made slaves of. Do you really think they’ll leave you alone forever?”

“Alright!” His voice rose as the last of his resistance broke. “Alright. I’ll see what else I can find in the archives.” He shook his head slowly. “Maybe I can at least find you somewhere to start.”

Tia laid her hand on his knee and a familiar shock shot up her arm. Wynn jumped at the touch and she quickly pulled her hand away. “That’s all we ask for, Wynn, thank you.”

The quint got to his feet and once again retrieved his book. He bade her good day and told her that he’d come to her with anything that he might find during his investigation. As Tiadaria closed the door behind him, she wondered if he had realized what had passed between them, and if he had, how long it would be before the Order’s inquisitors descended on the inn to take her away.

“Damn it, Faxon,” she said quietly to herself. “I need you here now. Where are you?”

* * *

“Vermin in the Warrens! There are vermin in the Warrens!” The pup that came racing into the rectory was so young that Zarfensis suspected he wasn’t long off his mother’s teat. His eyes were wide with panic, their blue fire amplified by a lens of tears.

The High Priest put down his pen and went to the door. In the cathedral he could hear excited yips and shouts. Excited, not fearful, and not panicked like the youngster crouched down next to his desk. It wasn’t, then, the vermin descending on them en masse to finish what they’d begun at Dragonfell.

“Come, whelp.” He offered his hand to the cowering pup, who took it with only a moment’s hesitation. “The vermin are not to be feared. We teach the vermin to fear us. We are the Chosen.”

“Y-yes, Your Holiness.”

Zarfensis lead the pup from the rectory into the cathedral. He’d wasted no time in moving back into his traditional quarters after the coup and now the adolescents that he and Xenir had assigned to stand guard over the upper levels of the Warrens were streaming into the sanctuary in twos and threes. The High Priest was about to take them to task for leaving their posts when he saw Xenir.

“Your Holiness!” Xenir motioned toward the antechamber and Zarfensis nodded his understanding. He gently pushed the pup into the waiting arms of a nearby stripling. The adolescent stepped in front of the pup, his half-grown claws unsheathing as he took up a protective position.

Zarfensis bounded across the sanctuary, his metal leg ringing against the marble floor with each step. “Report, Warleader.”

“There are vermin in the upper tunnels, Your Holiness. The tunnel guards did exactly as they ought, took them by surprise from one of the blind tunnels and restrained them. They are holding their captives at the north entrance.”

“They’re not bringing them here?”

Xenir wrinkled his nose, his lips drawing back from his teeth. “No, I’ll not see the Warrens defiled by vermin.”

Zarfensis chuckled at the vehemence in the Warleader’s tone. He clapped him on the shoulder. “Very well, brother. Let us go greet our…guests.”

The Warleader snorted but said nothing. They loped easily up through the tunnels leading to the surface, passing knots of curious onlookers as they went. They passed a bitch, followed by a full litter of pups. Zarfensis held up a hand and the Warleader stopped. The High Priest turned to the bitch, who immediately bowed her head and went to her knees.

“Your Holiness?”

“Rise, dear sister. Why are these pups out of the nursery?”

“I heard there are vermin in the Warrens, High Priest.”

“Then why aren’t you protecting your charges in their place?”

“The pups must learn what the vermin look like, what they smell like, how they sound. Otherwise, how will they hunt them down as they grow?”

She tossed her head haughtily, refusing to drop her eyes from Zarfensis’s intense gaze.

“Well spoken, sister.” Zarfensis motioned for the Warleader to continue and called over his shoulder. “Just ensure their safety.”

“The day I can’t protect my pups from a few vermin, I’ll cut off my own tail.” She said as they rounded the corner.

Zarfensis shuddered. Losing a tail was the greatest shame a Chosen could be subjected to. The High Priest wondered if there were many other females with that same streak of aggressiveness.

“She has a warrior’s heart,” Xenir remarked. Zarfensis had often wondered if Xenir’s gift of foresight also offered him the occasional glimpse into another’s mind, but when the Warleader continued, the High Priest’s suspicion was allayed.

“Those pups are mine,” Xenir said without a trace of pride. “She’s not the only female with that kind of fire, either. I wonder if we might be well-suited by allowing them to become warriors.”

“One cultural upheaval at a time, Xenir. We’ve only just restored the Chosen to our rightful status, let’s not give the scant handful of elders who backed us a reason to overthrow us just yet.”

Xenir grunted and walked on. Before long, they reached the oval cavern that was used as the ready room for the northern entrance to the Warrens. Three dirty, pink vermin were on their knees, guarded by two pairs of Xarundi guards. Zarfensis was impressed with their restraint. None of the prisoners seemed to be mauled in any way.

“Only three?” Zarfensis remarked to Xenir. “Are these vermin suicidal?”

“You were at Dragonfell,” the largest of the humans said, nodding toward Zarfensis. “The quints gave you a right good beating.”

A meaty thud echoed across the cavern as the man’s head rocked back on his neck. The force of the High Priest’s backhand raised an ugly welt across the human’s cheekbone.

“Learn your place, vermin.” Zarfensis snarled.

The man hawked and spat blood onto the floor in front of him. “My place is where the most money is. We have information you may find interesting, for a price.”

Zarfensis marveled at the audacity of these vermin. They defiled the Warrens with their presence and then expected to be compensated for their information. They should be happy they were still breathing.