Martin Hengst - The Darkest Hour

A thin green tendril snaked upward out of the earth. It slithered toward its prey, silent and unnoticed. The constriction started as a gentle squeeze, increasing rapidly as it took hold, threatening to choke the life out of its chosen victim.

Tiadaria grasped the weed just above the root and yanked it out of the ground. She shook the dirt from the bundle before tossing it over her shoulder into a growing pile on the cobblestone pathway. Spring had come to the Imperium and already birds were singing in the trees at the edge of the fence that circled the cottage.

Winter had been cold and dark, with the loss of the Captain being harder to bear during the bleakness of the frozen months.

Still, with time, the sharp pain of loss had been reduced to a dull ache. Two years had passed since that fateful night on the battlefield outside of Dragonfell. The events of that night had forever changed her, but as that first winter had changed into spring, she found the loss easier to bear than she would have imagined. The time she spent in Dragonfell after his death had helped immensely. This past winter had been easier still. She supposed it was true; time heals all wounds.

She still felt the Captain’s presence in a very real way around the cottage. Although she was frequently called to Blackbeach or Dragonfell on Imperium business, she had no desire to live anywhere but King’s Reach or the little home she had inherited from her former mentor. A new constable and magistrate kept things quiet in the tiny hamlet and it was a welcome respite from the constant flurry of activity in the capital.

There was a creak from the end of the path and Tiadaria was instantly alert. The gate hinge was left unoiled for precisely that reason. It was an innocuous warning, a first line of defense against anyone who might seek to sneak up on her. True, they could just jump the fence, but even King’s Reach, so far from the heart of the Imperium, was mostly civilized.

The man who stood at the end of the path was tall and lanky. His curly brown hair peeked out from under the wide-brimmed hat he wore pulled down over his eyes, casting a shadow over his face. He wore a dirt-stained coverall and was stooped over, a common posture ailment for those who walked behind the plow. His dirty hands also lent credence to the image, but the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Something told her this was no simple farmer. She shifted into sphere-sight. It was second nature now. She cast out toward the man standing at the end of her path and inspected him in minute detail.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Lady Tiadaria,” he said in a soft voice, very much at odds with his appearance. “I assure you that I am no threat to you. However, I suspect you’ve already allayed yourself of that worry.”

Tiadaria shifted her sight back to the physical realm. Her cool blue eyes ranged over him as she pushed herself to her knees, then to her feet. She brushed her palms against the thighs of her breeches, loosening the worst of the dirt that was caked on her hands. Her visitor didn’t seem concerned by her dirty attire and unkempt hair. The latter she twisted into a crude blond knot at the base of her neck.

“I don’t believe we’ve met…” She trailed off, silently prompting him for a name, since none had been offered.

“Cabot, Lady Tiadaria, with the Imperium Intelligence Service.” He glanced around and nodded to himself as if satisfied. “Do you think we could speak? Inside?”

Tiadaria led him into the little cottage, stopping only to fit a tiny brass key into the complicated lock set in the door. Cabot’s eyes widened slightly as the lock made its customary series of pops, snaps, and twangs before the key, turning on its own accord, unlocked the door. She pushed it open and gestured for Cabot to precede her into the common room.

“To what do I owe the honor of a visit by Imperium Intelligence, Cabot?” she asked, ushering him onto a stool by the long trestle table. There were neat stacks of parchment at the end of the table and the far wall had a myriad of maps pinned to it. Weapons and armor of all types hung from pegs around the room. Cabot’s awestruck expression was almost comical, but Tiadaria could forgive him that. It was an impressive room. It had been so when it was the Captain’s and it remained so under her care.

“My Lady-“

“Tia is fine, Cabot.” She felt a little silly correcting someone several years her elder, but as he had made no attempt to drop the title, she did it for him.

“Tia then,” he said, inclining his head in thanks. “Master Faxon Indra at the Academy of Arcane Arts and Sciences sent me to you. He says it is of vital importance for you to have my full report. Since I’m on my way back out on assignment, Master Faxon asked me to visit you.”

If Faxon had sent Cabot to her, there must be something foul afoot. There was a standing joke between Tia and the quintessentialist that the only time Faxon summoned her to Blackbeach was when something horrible was about to happen. Or already in progress. She sighed.

“Alright then,” she said, slipping onto a stool and leaning forward over the table. “You’d better tell me all of it.”

“I’m afraid all of it isn’t very much.” Cabot spread his hands in a gesture of apology. “All we have to go on are rumors and hearsay. The Xarundi have apparently been licking their wounds and they are striking out again, attacking some of the smaller human settlements nearest to the Warrens. We know that they were badly fragmented after the battle at Dragonfell. We have a mole within the Shadow Assembly-“

“Really?”

“Yes, Lady…I mean, Tia. We have several moles that have infiltrated the lower ranks of the Assembly. Most of them report to lower functionaries, which is part of the problem. There is talk that one of their seers has had a vision of a great and powerful artifact. Others dismiss this as rumor and misdirection. Either way, we don’t know what the artifact is, or where it might be.”

“But if the Xarundi are seeking it out, there’s a good chance that it doesn’t bode well for the Imperium. Or me.”

“Exactly. So Faxon-“

“Wants me to get near enough the Warrens to see what’s going on and what we can do to stop it,” she finished for him. Cabot slowly shook his head.

“No, not exactly. He wants you to meet with him in Blackbeach so the two of you can go through the Great Library and see if there are any clues as to what the artifact might be and where the Xarundi could be looking for it.”

“Ugh,” Tiadaria groaned. “Research. What is it with quints and their research? I’ll take a blade in my hand over a book any day.”

Cabot smiled tolerantly. “I’m not inclined to disagree with you, Lady Tia.”

“If that’s all then?” Tiadaria pushed off the table and got to her feet, extending her hand to Cabot as he did the same. He grasped it tightly and smiled.

“I have nothing more,” he said. “It was nice to meet the heroine of Dragonfell in person, though. Not very often that a man gets to say that he was in the presence of greatness.”

“Oh stop it,” Tiadaria snapped, her cheeks burning red. “There were many on that battlefield that night.”

“True.” Cabot nodded. “But not many who laid out two score of Xarundi before the rest of us could find our daggers.”

“You were there?” She asked, touching his shoulder lightly.

“Aye, Lady.” He sighed. “A shame about the Captain, but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. May we all be so lucky when our time comes.”

“Indeed.” Tiadaria’s throat was tight, her chest aching.