Spindewas

“Mirror, mirror on the wall...”

He did not even have to finish the command, as the mirror’s surface already began to wave and change. Emperor Contalabutte stared into it with a hunger. He could still see his own reflection, wavering and shifting, his blue-tipped beard swimming. His dark, burning eyes floated as the new face emerged. The veins in his eyes bulged, his hair-filled nostrils flared. It was taking too long. He saw flickers of the face he wanted... it was teasing him, the blasted mirror.

“Who is the fairest of them all!” he barked impatiently, his face right up against the glass, and his hands gripping the frame. His reflection flickered away and a new face rose to the surface, blurry. His eyes moved about wildly, waiting for it to focus. Finally, she was there, as sharply defined as if he was looking at her through a window.

Queen Sereya. She was glowing, dressed in an emerald gown. Her pregnant stomach could be seen. Her mouth was moving, she was speaking (though no sound passed through the glass), and she was sitting on something hairy... ah, yes, her husband. Contalabutte almost laughed... “That giant ape, that BEAST! She will beg me to take her away from that thing.”

He was tired of looking at King Lufgaw. “Closer!” he ordered the mirror. It zoomed in, making Sereya’s young and radiant face fill the frame. Contalabutte pressed his nose against the glass, and his heavy breath fogged his view of her. He panted and drooled over her like a rabid hound.

And then came an urgent knock on his door. “Emperor most High, may I request your attention?”

Contalabutte cooled himself down and stepped away from the mirror. With a flick of his hand, its reflection became ordinary. He stood in the middle of the chamber, which used to be King Ruffdor’s study. “I bid you come in, Franste.”

His right-hand man, Franste, bustled into the room. “The intercepted pixie is ready to talk, my Lord.”

Contalabutte and Franste went straight away down the spiraling stairs and to a dank cellar, which once housed King Ruffdor’s wine. Most of that wine and been cleared and drunk up by Contalabutte and his men, and now this cellar was used as his secret Mail chamber. A pixie was held in a miniature vice contraption, which sat on a spotlit table. The pixie was near death.

“What is your message? Who is it for?” Contalabutte ordered of the poor little pixie. He spoke just a little above his ordinary speaking voice, but he knew it would sound like a booming yell to the pixie’s small ears.

The pixie gasped and made shrill cries as his vice was tightened. “My message be for Prince Dayerin... Only for Prince Dayerin!” It was clear from his accent that the pixie was Dafarzian.

“Tell us,” Contalabutte insisted. Again, tighter. “You can not resist us, insect. You are nothing. I should squash you!”

After a moment more, the pixie could no longer contain his message. His voice came through weakly, but a scribe was posted right beside him and recorded the message.

“What was that? I couldn’t understand a word,” Contalabutte snapped. He pounded the table with his fist, the contraption bounced and the pixie cried. “Damn Dafarzian accent!”

The scribe relayed, stripping the message of the accent: “Day, Boy, this be Prince Nanji, Good to hear from you. Me Sister Ainra and I want to know about this war but you be welcome anytime in Dafarzi.”

This was exactly the kind of message Contalabutte wanted. He had a mind that it would be hard for Briarose’s children to stay away. His eyes bulged and his breath grew heavy again. He gave his orders to Franste. “Send spies to Dafarzi. I want the skies heavily guarded. Release a pod of griffins to patrol the borders. Have the Empire pixies stationed over every city, ready to intercept any messengers. I want the Towerlot Twins kept under close observation. I will not sleep until I find where Briar’s brat son is hiding!”

The face that looked back at her from the looking glass seemed strange and unfamiliar to her. She saw it everyday, knew it as her own but it wasn’t hers. Like everything else, the face that looked back belong to Contalabutte now.

“Your hair will be soft as silk when I am done.” The soft bristled brush moved through the long strands. Briarose simply looked in the mirror towards the woman standing behind her. To her right were two other women waiting to dress her in a gown of blue. To her left, three others made her bed and tidied up the already neat room.

None of these women were hers. They came with Contalabutte’s servants with the sole job of looking after his new wife and of course keeping watch over her and everything she did. They ensured Briarose dressed as Contalabutte prefered and appeared when summoned.

Briarose rarely spoke and truth be told they thought her mute for the first two weeks after they arrived.

“There now, lovely. I will put the silver net in and perhaps a nice braid on either side....” The woman spoke more to herself, muttering as she went. Briarose watched her as if she were a spectator rather than the person having her hair done. She did not care what they did to it, in fact she cared for very little of the activities of the castle or her life these days.

The other ladies in waiting chitter to themselves, “And I heard that Lorna was found in the alcove with that page. He had his hand up her...” There was giggling. Briarose blinked as she stared in the reflecting glass.

“We are done my lady.” The woman behind her stepped away. Briarose stood and walked slowly to where they waited with her dress. She did not even bother to glance at her hair. The ladies slipped her dress over her corset and undergarments and began to do it up.

Briarose looked down at the gown. Her eyes took it in, marking it as something in style she would not have chosen for herself but knowing that she had not chosen and had little choice in anything. Her arms were out as the began to lace the dress closed.

“My lady, I believe the dress will have to be taken in before the next time it is worn. It is done up as tightly as we can.”

Briarose nodded, not really caring what they were saying but understanding that tone used signalled a question and it would need an answer.

Slippers of matching blue were slipped on her feet and a necklace of silver was draped on her neck.

“You look lovely your majesty.”

With that the women left her alone in her room. Briarose looked around. As usual she was dressed but had little to do. She moved across the room and sat in a chair, close to the fireplace though devoid of fire. Her hands found her embroidery hoop and mechanically she began to stitch.

Time went by, a knock came at her door followed by footsteps. Briarose stopped the movement of her hand. She looked down at the material as she placed it in her lap. She gasped at the sight. She had outlined two profiles, one clearly a girl and the other a boy. Briarose flipped it over, hiding it from sight with her folded hands as the footsteps got closer.

The male servant put a tray down beside her and she watched him passively as he turned and left her room.

Briarose looked at the tray and nothing there appealed. There was a time when she enjoyed meals, the delightful things the kitchen would create. The succulent meats and sinful desserts. Now, nothing tasted as it should and everything seemed off. Briarose’s appetite had fallen away. She picked up the cup, sniffing the steaming liquid. A tea of some sort, likely meant to stimulate her appetite.

She drank it slowly and stared at the fireplace. The ash sat, waiting to be cleaned. They would come and do that later, piling wood for the fire as well and lighting it before they exited the room. Another tray would be brought and again left untouched.

Her fingers worked to extract the fabric from the hoop. She folded it and tucked it into the side of the cushion on the chair. Once the fire was lit tonight she would toss it in the flames, just as she did with every letter she wrote to Morning and Day each night before she went to sleep. She did not dare try and send them out of the castle, Contalabutte watched her every move and a letter would be reported immediately. He had gotten rid of all those loyal to her and her husband, she had no one left.

Briarose sat in the chair, in front of the empty fireplace with an empty embroidery hoop in her lap and let all of that emptiness fill her heart. Her eyes closed briefly as if willing the tears to come but they didn’t. There were none left. They had all been shed when her husband was killed and she was ordered not to cry when her children were exiled.

Briarose stood, finding another piece of fabric and sat to begin anew.

After giving his orders to release spies, griffins and Empire pixie interceptors, Emperor Contalabutte went about enlisting his greatest weapons. He was determined to find Prince Dayerin, and was certain that by the next morning he would have the meddlesome Prince delivered to him.

He took his perferred method of transporation, by his most trusted armored dragon, to the mountains west of Castle Spindewas. This was where the new Eyrie was located. Accompanied by his fittest body guards, Conta met with the head Darahurne and gave him his order to fetch the Prince.

“I would prefer if you captured him alive. He may have useful information for me. And I would like to make a spectacle of his trial and execution, you understand?” Contalabutte said to the head Darahurne. But from the feralness in the mutated dragon’s vessel-addled eyes, he could see that this beast was not used to handling anything gently. He may very well receive the Prince in pieces. This would be his test for the Darahurne. And if they messed up with the Prince, then at least he might be able to get his sister in one piece.

By the end of the day, Contalabutte returned to the rose-covered castle. As he came to the entrance, he picked off one of the exquisite roses and carried it with him. He made his rounds of the castle. He received a dirty look from one of the servants, and so he fired her on the spot. He passed by a cozy enclave where Scheherazade was telling a story to a selection of his children. He stood and let them all bow to him, and then he moved on. He received reports about his other wives. Vasilisa was on a supervised picnic with her children and Maid Maleen was in bed, not feeling well. Briarose had recently dined and was alone in her chamber. Perfect.

The Emperor went to his chambers and was cleaned up a little. All of his clothing carried a fine film of black dust from visiting the Eyrie. He shed it all and dressed in his finest. He ran a comb through his blue-tipped hair and beard, satisfied with his appearance.

He strode towards Briarose’s chambers and stood a moment in front of the door. He had worked up an appetite for her. There was nothing that he wanted more in that moment. He knocked on the door and called, “Briarose, my wife, may I come in?”

He did not wait for an answer, and opened the door anyway, having the key ready if he needed it. She sat by an unlit hearth, holding an empty embroidery. She was wearing a gown of blue, and her hair was immaculately dressed. He always marveled at the fact that she was over 130 years old. That made her even more desirable. He took in the sight of her hungrily.

“Up,” he said, taking both of her hands in his and drawing her out of her chair. His eyes burned as he looked down at her face. Her lips were legendary. Who could not forget the story of how the Sleeping Beauty was so irresistible, that the young Prince Ruffdor was impelled to kiss her?

“Will you give me a kiss, Briarose?” Contalabutte asked her, and handing her the rose he had plucked from the castle.

Vrael marveled at Contalabutte. Oh how he truly detested this mortal. Strutting his stuff as though HE was in charge. Ok, maybe he was, but, hopefully, he wouldn't be for much longer. Oh joy, if only he knew what the darahurne were up to; that pompous, arrogant look on his face would no doubt vanish instantly. However, Vrael's master required that Contalbutte did not find out about their little plan, lest relations go awry too early, so Vrael, much to his chagrin, would for now have to keep up the whole master/servant game.

When word from the Effledus scouting party returned, Vrael took off towards the palace. His black, baleful wings dripping with magical excess as he went. People screamed in horror as he landed, barging past them and eating those who got in his way. Dying screams were his favorite kind of music. Then another shadow fell upon Spindewas. Tael, his sister, appeared beside him. They gave each other an affectionate nuzzle, openly displaying their inter-sibling love. This was partly out of actual love, and partly out of wanting to keep the lineage of Kas'Atuin pure.
"Brotherrrrr" she cooed "You know who they've foundddddd, don't youuuuuuuu? You know what thissss means for us all? The stakes have gotten higherrrrrr."
Vrael nodded grimly. The matter of Dayerin had suddenly seemed obsolete. After seeing who the prince was with after scrying the dead scout's mind, the darahurne were, for the first time, presented with the possibility of the failure of their master plan. He would consult their master later. For now, the mortal idiot-king was who they needed to see. The guards, recognizing what they were, hastily shuffled to one side to let them into the palace. Tael, using her magic fueled nose, picked up the imbecile's scent. He was in one of his many wives' chambers. The door was too small for two darahurne to fit through, so they transmogrified. In an instant Vrael appeared as a well dressed man in a rather dapper suit and bowler hat. His sister, on the other hand, had taken the form of a boa constrictor, which wrapped around his neck as he strode into the chambers.

At once they were face to face with Briarose, a mortal who was older than them. They had a lot to thank her for, without her birth, their plan would never had come to pass. Contalabutte was with her, of course. The fool was cooing over her like a madman.
"My lord, we must speak with you, come outside. It is us, the darahurne's leaders, we have news concerning the prince, and an old enemy has been sighted." Vrael boomed, his acidic voice giving away his true appearance beneath the magical illusion.

Contalabutte was furious. His nostrils flared as he stared at the man with the snake that had barged into his wife’s chamber. He didn’t know what to make of how the man was dressed. The style of his hat was especially odd.

Before he could reprimand the intruder, the man revealed who he really was and what tidings he brought. Of course, it was news the Emperor was eager to learn, but how could the Darahurne barge into Briarose’s chamber and announce that it concerned her son? For there was no mistaking that he was the Prince they spoke of.

Contalabutte clenched his jaw. “Darahurne or not, in the future you may not enter my Wife’s chambers.” He considered saying something about waiting to disclose the nature of their news, but there was not point. The cat was out of the bag. He saw how Briarose looked at him, and felt her trembling grip on his hands. Even if it was because of duress, he preferred her looking at him instead of that awful shunning. He loathed being ignored, so he would have a little revenge on her.

He made a strained decision, and he hoped he would not come to regret it. But whether the prince as dead or alive, Briarose would come to learn of it soon enough. And what could she do about it? Nothing. But perhaps he would earn a bit of gratitude from her for letting her in on his secrets... if the news of her son was not too grisly, of course.

“You may tell me your news in front of my wife. She is my companion, and she has a right to know,” Contalabutte allowed, and he gave Briarose’s hand a little squeeze, an attempt at comforting her. “But the servant must leave.” He cast a forbidding eye at the nervous servant tending to the fireplace. “And you must keep your voice down lest the whole castle will hear.”

Vrael suppressed a snigger as Contalabutte almost blew his top. To be honest he didnt give a damn if Briarose overheard, in fact, it would be rather amusing, as he reckoned that the knowledge that her son had almost died with her powerless to help him would make her even more depressed, and there was nothing he liked more than causing the sufferance of others. However, the servant had to go. Vrael opened his human mouth and a small ball of fire hit the fireplace, causing the servant to yelp in suprise and jump back.
"Out." Vrael barked, and the nervous little man obeyed and ran out.
With the matter of the servant out of the way, they could get down to business.

"A scout of ours has located the prince, mi'lord." Vrael said in a hushed voice. "He is in Effledus, attending a meeting that has being held by King Lufgaw. Many assorted enemies of the empire are there too. However, when we scryed the scouts mind, we were eventually cut off by a strange magical force. We questioned the darahurnian elders, and they called it Niffliem. It seems that it is a spell that covers all of Effledus in an almost inpenetrable fog. Thus I am afraid capturing the prince will have to wait until he leaves. Luckily, now weve pinpointed his location, we can track him. If he leaves, we shall know. To be honest im rather looking forward to the little brat losing his head."
Vrael smiled, hed added that line to get Briarose riled. Seeing her upset filled his black heart with joy. He cleared his throat as he prepared to speak some more.

"However, there is a problem." he whispered "When we scryed the scouts mind, we realised she had been killed. Someone had put a shard of malachite through her brain, but the magical discharge given off by the malachite had given her brain a jolt, allowing us to scry it. When we found out WHO had killed her, well, you may be suprised to hear this, but we actually felt real worry."
With that Vrael clicked his fingers, and Tael, still in snake form, coughed up a mysterious magical powder. He clicked his fingers again, and the powder turned into a childrens book.
"Did you read this book as a child, mi'lord? It was published in Matakin almost ninety years ago. Its called 'Mortimus and the dwarves' and its quite a nice little thing." he rasped, showing Contalabutte the lovingly decorated book. "If not your first wife or that dragon you ride has surely told you the tale. It recounts the true story of Mortimus, a powerful dragon born in the Hatchen a hundred years ago. It speaks of his benelovence, and his daring escape from the Hatchen to be free from servitude. But that is only half the story. Mortimus still lives, and he is extremely dangerous. He has constantly fought in many wars against the empire, both physical and political, and he is a master strategist and veteran upon the fields of battle. But why do we fear him so much? It is because he is our greatest enemy to date, and has a personal vendetta against our race, for reasons too complicated to discuss at this present time. He has defeated us countless times, killing darahurne thousands of years older than himself. We have a name for him, the white warden, a grim shard of the wrath of the very heavens who is blessed by the goddess to extinguish our flame. He is a threat to the existence of the empire and the existence of the darahurne race as a whole. He killed the scout and he is present at the meeting."
Vrael paused, speaking of Mortimus made him writhe in loathing for the dragon.
"One of Mortimus' greatest assesets is his ability to see the true potential in people and inspire them to take action. From what our scout gleaned before making her entrance, he is going to train a group of young dtalents and help them unify the kingdoms against us, and Dayerin is among them. War may well be upon us, Emperor Contalabutte. What course of action shall you take?

Briarose kept her eyes on Contalabutte as he addressed the darahurne. There was nothing in his features but smoldering anger. She trembled a bit more as his words escaped through his teeth.

Her shock was clear on her face, the first real emotion she had shown in a while. He was going to let the darahurne deliver the news with her here. “Thank the stars...” Briarose let the thought form but said nothing.

Contallbutte’s squeeze of her hand, a gesture of comfort made her skin crawl. Slowly it dawned on her that perhaps something had happened and the news she was about to hear would be the news of the death of her son, that Contalabutte was using compassion to torture her.

Her eyes fell on the man and the snake. He opened his mouth, the fire burst forth and the servant bolted. Briarose stood there, a statue with her hand still resting in Contalabutte’s. She wanted to pull away but to do so would stoke his anger more. Briarose kept her sight on the darahurne, as if by staring at him she could make his words manifest her son in the room.

"A scout of ours has located the prince, mi'lord."

“Day....” The name slipped out of her lips, a soft whisper on her breath.

"He is in Effledus....”

Briarose held her breath as she listened to him describe what Day was doing, the meeting of Contalabutte’s enemies, the spell that was keeping them hidden and Day safe. One pale, shaking hand went to her neck, resting there as she tried to still her pounding heart. So much had obviously gone on in the world outside the castle since Ruffdor was killed and the children exiled.

“If he leaves, we shall know. To be honest I'm rather looking forward to the little brat losing his head."

“No.” Briarose looked at Contalabutte, her eyes wide and pleading. She held her tongue, said nothing more.

She stared at her husband, the darahurne kept talking but she did not listen. “Why is Day there? What is he doing? Where is Morning?” Her mind was screaming for answers to her questions but Briarose stood there quietly.

“War may well be upon us, Emperor Contalabutte. What course of action shall you take?”

Her hand dropped from her neck. War. More fighting, more killing and her children were out there fighting it while she was here, a prisoner in her own home with the man that all others hated and feared. Her knees went weak. Her one hand grab Contalabutte’s hard in order to keep herself upright. She was still Queen, she would not let the darahurne see her falter more. Briarose’s eyes focused on Contalabutte’s. She tried to search their depths for any sign of what he was thinking, what he might be planning. It was not long before she shut her eyes, what she saw made her ache with sadness and fear.

Contalabutte absorbed the information relayed by Vrael, stroking the blue part of his beard with one hand. The other hand was being grasped by Briarose, her grip as desperate as if she were about to fall off a cliff.

The Emperor did his best to contain his anger, and it was only his genuine affection for his new wife that kept him so. It did not please him to hear about the Prince’s condition. He had expected that Dayerin would be found in a hollow of Matakin, drugged to oblivion by some potent Giant’s Beard. When Contalabutte first met the Boy Prince, he definitely smelled of the stuff, and he wrote him off as a hapless quarter-ogre Beardhead. But how could this happen, that Prince Dayerin was in the safest place he could be--magic-concealed Effledus? Why would King Lufgaw even allow a snotty human Prince past his strict borders?

Despite Conta’s growing concern about this news, his eyes flashed fire when Vrael made his quip about beheading the Prince. Before he could say anything, Vrael continued. Contalabutte furrowed his brows and growled a little when Vrael produced a children’s book for him to look at. Oddly enough, he did recognize the book, and he glared at it. It was something that that troublemaker Bluewing had read to him and his brother when they were young and impressionable. And it was also a story that he had overheard Scheherazade tell to his children, and he had her punished for it. He had known then as he knew now that Mortimus’s story was not compatible with his rule. Mortimus was a hero of Faecleir and a friend to the Old Spindewas, not the Empire, and he didn’t want his children admiring a hero that rebelled against authority. He forced Scheherazade to tell them a new tale that painted Mortimus as a villain.

“First of all,” Contalabutte piped up after Vrael’s lengthy unveiling. “The Prince is not to be harmed. I already told you that, Vrael. I am grieved for the loss of your scout, but her sacrifice has given us much information. My order will be...”

And here, he considered. It would be foolhardy to march on Effledus. He would have to find another way to get at King Lufgaw and undermine Effledus’s magical barrier. The answer lied with Lufgaw’s human bride. Contalabutte knew everything he could find out about Sereya, as she had been his obsession as of late.

“I want your Darahurne to search out a certain group of people. Queen Sereya has a human family, I am aware. I want them captured and brought to your Eyrie in the Western mountains. Hold them hostage there and do try to keep them alive. We will send message to Lufgaw that if the Queen wants to see her family again, they will be exchanged for Prince Dayerin. No doubt Mortimus, the hero that he is, will come and try to rescue them, and you will ambush him at the Eyrie. Does that sound reasonable?”

He looked down at Briarose, and felt that he should give her some assurance. He did know that Mortimus had been friendly with her late husband.

“Briarose, my love, I hope you understand why all of this must be. I only mean the best for your son. But you see, it is clear he is being used as a weapon against me... against us. It is best that we have him taken away from enemy influences and have him brought back here. Then you can be with him again, wouldn’t that be nice?”

Vrael looked surprised
"But i thought you said you were going to exe-"
But then he stopped himself, realizing, as he looked at Briarose, what the Emperor meant.
He listened to the fool's plan. He tried to contain his worry. The plan would no doubt expose the lies of the darahurne, so when he realised that the queen's family was under the protection of Niffliem he thanked the stars.
"Mi'lord, do not worry about the scout. She would have died anyway. Scouts are lowlifes, and we are not above cannibalism if she became no longer useful. Its rather amusing, boiling scouts to death, i must say. With a pinch of salt...mmmmm" he said dreamily, and for a second his form flickered, revealing the terrible beast beneath the illusion. With his fiery eyes, he looked at Briarose and grinned wickedly, not even bothering to hide the fact he was making every attempt to scare her. His form reverted to its humanoid shape. There was no hiding that the darahurne were the cruelest of the cruel, the foulest of the foul, so they liked to dwell on it instead.
"I am afraid that the plan is virtually impossible. Sereya's family are at the meeting, and there they shall stay. However we, or rather HE has another plan, i am told." he said, looking through the window at the direction of the blackened mountains.
My master wishes to speak to you, mi'lord. You cannot see him, for it is said that if mortals even set eyes on him they shall die instantly, and if that happens who shall you leave the empire to? Us?" he chuckled, then realised what he had said. He cleared his throat.
"Anyway, he has a method of communication, so you can seek counsel with him. Thus, I invite you to our eyrie once more. In the western mountains. You can come too Briarose. Don't be scared. He DOES bite, but ill tell him not to do so too hard."
He smiled once more at Briarose, seeing her shudder.
"Ill leave you two alone with your thoughts for now. Let me know what your decision is. Me and sis will be just around the corner. Just give a little whistle."
Then he whistled, and he and Tael vanished in a cloud of foul smoke.

Her eyes opened at the sound of Contalabutte’s voice. Her face belied nothing of her thoughts and even her grip had loosened on his hand. She turned her gaze to the fire.

“There has to be a way to get word to Day...to warn....”

Briarose was only partially relieved by Contalabutte’s assurance that her son was to remain unharmed. There was something missing from this whole situation to allow her to actually feel secure. Perhaps it was that the man had killed her husband or that he forced her into marriage or that he was obviously having her children watched.

Briarose was still looking the fire when the name Mortimus hit her ears. She looked briefly at the darahurne and then to the Emperor. A small spark of hope began to burn. “Mortimus will help Day, he will protect him.” The great white dragon had been her husband’s very close friend. Knowing he was there with Day eased her fear.

Contalabutte addressed her and she turned to face him fully. She opened her mouth, wanting to question him about what he would do with her son once they brought him back to her. Nothing came out however. Instead Briarose’s eyes closed, her chin lowered and she nodded silently.

The darahurne’s quick comment, the protest that Contalabutte was contradicting himself was all she needed to know. Her unasked question was answered. Her children would be dead the moment they set foot over the border and marrying Contalabutte would be for not.

The mention of the scout, of how the darahurne would eat them made Briarose look up in disgust. The feeling of nausea died away quickly once she set sight on the true form of thing in front of her. She shrunk away from him unconsciously, stepping closer to Contalabutte.

That was who Contalabutte was using for negotiating, the embodiment of fear and cruelty was going to help return her son? He invited them to the mountain, Contalabutte’s presence requested and hers out of amusement.

With a whistle the man and snake disappeared.

There was silence for a moment and she realized just how close to her husband she was standing. Taking a step away Briarose turned to face Contalabutte, her hands clasped in front of her. Her back was straight and she did her best to appear unshaken.

“Has to be a way to get them word...” The small bit of hope that she’d find a way to communicate with her son or Mortimus died with one look to Contalabutte’s face.

The Darahurne were so distasteful, that they were even capable of offending the Emperor’s sensibilities. His lips curled when Vrael chattered about eating their non-useful scouts. Cannibalism was one thing he would never condone. It reminded him of those filthy children-eating ogres.

As for the flicker of pure evil that was revealed of the Darahurne form, Contalabutte had seen it before and was not that startled. Instead, it made him clench his fists. How dare the Darahurne present their form to his wife? He would react the same way if the human servants started flashing Briarose. It was not appropriate.

Contalabutte was disappointed that his first plan could not be executed immediately. But he did not entirely give up on it. Perhaps Effledus could be seiged in some way. Someone would have to step past the borders of Effledus eventually, whether it be Sereya’s family, Mortimus, or even the Prince himself. Conta could be patient if he needed.

When the Darahurne disappeared, the Emperor had a sour taste in his mouth. He did not like that slip about him dying and leaving the Empire to the Darahurne. Just from this conversation alone, his trust had sunk a good degree. He felt like he had had enough Darahurne for one day, and yet they invited him back to the Eyrie. With Briarose.

Oddly enough, such an outing might even be romantic. Briarose was standing close to him of her own free will, and uttering more speech than he had ever heard. He supposed that when faced with the most hideous, terrifying of creatures, her husband looked all the more appealing to her. And what he wanted most--besides Queen Sereya--was for Briarose to want him.

“Do you want to send a message to your son, my rose?” He asked her, lifting her delicate chin with his finger. He surprised even himself that he was offering such a thing. But now that she was privy, from all of the Darahurne’s insinuations, that he was out to capture Dayerin, he would have to make some allowances. And having Briarose send a message to Dayerin could even prove tactical.

Contalabutte moved to yank the servant bell. A servant soon came in, the same one who had tended the fire. He smelled of singed hair, and his eyes darted nervously. “Fetch my Lady a Messenger Pixie.” The servant nodded and left.

As they waited for the pixie, Contalabutte stroked Briarose’s cheek. “We have not had a proper honeymoon, have we, my love? If you come with me to the Darahurne’s Eyrie, we can stay a few nights in my mountain fortress. A change of scenery... you must be weary cooped up in this castle, hmm?”

How it frustrated Contalabutte that he could get so little from Briarose. He was offering something unheard of, contact with her banished son, and she didn’t so much as blink. It was like the woman was still asleep. But most of his wives had been like this when he first married them. They were shy, withdrawn, too meek to look at him. All of them except Scheherazade. He wished Scheherazade was young again.

“Ah, Briarose,” he sighed a little. “You think that I do not have a heart, that I can not understand how you miss your son. But it is just the opposite, I know exactly what it is to miss a son. I had to leave my dear Veliclar back in Kalgrist, as he is a man now and old enough to rule his own estate.”

He shook his head wistfully. Then at that time, the servant arrived with a pixie locked in a cage and waiting to receive a message. Conta bade the servant to set the pixie down at Briarose’s dining table. Then he turned to her and gestured for her to sit down at the table in front of the pixie.

“If I were to send a message to Veliclar, I would tell him that I miss him. But I would also say that I am content in Spindewas, with my new bride. Might you tell your son something similar? And might you remind him to look after his sister?”

Contalabutte stood over Briarose, staring down at the top of her head. He did not expect her to lie, and knew that any message from her telling Day to go a certain place might reek of the trap it would be. But he was privy to the fact that Dayerin and Mornalee were not together. His spies had followed the two a little way past the border, and witnessed them parting. Perhaps a reminder of his sister would be enough to goad him out of magic-protected Effledus. And at the same time, he wanted to hear Briarose speak something besides “as you wish.”

“Whenever you are ready, Briar my love, you may give the pixie your message. I want it to come from you.”

Vrael and Tael were bored. Extremely bored. They stood outside the palace, now in their true form, and waited.

"Idiot." Vrael muttered "By the stars, i hate that man. Why YOU chose him, i do not know. Yes, I'm talking to YOU"

Tael nodded in agreement. Their master had chose Contalabutte to be his champion. Why on earth would he want a stuck up, mildly sociopathic, deranged imbecile as an envoy? However, death works in mysterious ways, and their master was probably the closest thing to death itself in existence.

"V.....vvvv......vrae........Vrael." a malicious voice wheezed in Vraels head.
"My lord, you.....you're speaking outside of the underhaven now?" Vrael queried.

"Yes, though it is....with great effort. But i am getting stronger. Slowly my body is being rebuilt. Let....it be known that I, for the first time in 150 years, have reastablished my grip on Faecleir. Soon i will be reborn, and i will bring about the Reckoning, with no interuptions this time, lest of all from that pesky, lowlife, DRAGONSCUM!"
Then the great voice faded, and Vrael smiled. Faecleir was doomed.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mortimus smiled. "Ah, that be fighting talk, missus!" He chuckled
Suddenly, a wave of colossal dark energy hit his brain. He screamed in agony and vomited, before a great spasm of pain jolted through him and he fell backwards, crashing through the hole in the roof, right in front of Bettina and 'Enry. His eyes glowed green as he writhed in agony.
"Death! Pain! Suffering! We're all doomed! damned! We shall all burn! BURN! Arrrrrghhhhhhh!" he howled in pain, before screeching: "HE IS REBORN!", then the eerie light faded from his eyes and he collapsed, wholly unconscious.

As Briarose spoke her message, Contalabutte stood near her and and studied her every move. The way she held a breath, or wet her lips, or paused. All of it was interesting to him. But his overall impression was that she did not cause a fuss, and delivered a very straight-forward message. It was just as Contalabutte asked for. He found himself relieved, pleasantly surprised with his new wife. It was as if she had given him a gift.

“More than acceptable,” he replied to her soft question. “Briarose, my Queen, every thing you do is exquisite. I’m sure your message will be a bright beacon to your son, leading him out the darkness that has gripped him.”

Contalabutte called for another servant and had the pixie carried away to be released. Once the servant left, the Emperor coaxed Briarose out of her chair, taking her by the hands if need be to make her stand. Sometimes it felt like he was moving about a lifesize doll. He was determined to get his kiss, however. Without asking, he stepped near her and forced his lips upon hers. He attacked her mouth like an animal, hungrily, invasively. He wanted to give her a kiss that was even more awakening than her first kiss with King Ruffdor. And to Contalabutte, Briarose was in another period of sleep. He was discontent by how wan she was, how she resisted showing her emotion to him.

“I will wake you yet again,” he vowed in a growl, with his face still close to hers. His anger bubbled forth... he wanted passion from her!

“Now pack your things for our honeymoon,” he said, releasing her. The irritation was still in his voice. “We will leave soon with the Darahurne.”

She wanted to crawl out of her skin as he complimented her. A beacon for her son..Briarose wanted it to be a warning to him that things were not right and that he and Morning needed to be careful and cautious. She hoped her son was clear headed enough when he received the message that he picked up on the oddities. She knew of her son’s habits but she could not let it worry her at this moment. She had done all she could do. For now. Briarose needed to find another way to get word to him, a way to warn him of Contalabutte’s plans.

Contalabutte called for a servant and Briarose watched the pixie being taken away. “Fly safe...” Her eyes followed the cage as it was taken from the room, the door closing taking it finally from her.

Her hands were being held and being raised, forcing her to stand. Briarose had almost forgotten the man in the room with her as she was lost in her thoughts of the cage and her son. She stood now, her hands held in Contalabutte’s. He stepped closer to her and Briarose wondered what more he could want from her. Her chin raised slightly, her head tilting as if inquiring silently. It was at that moment Contalabutte struck.

His mouth was on hers. His lips, teeth and tongue attacking hers as if she were being devoured. Briarose stood there and let him have his way with her mouth. She yielded but did not participate back, she simply let him do what he wished.

His growl as he broke the kiss, his vow to wake her again startled Briarose and she blinked once as her eyes met his. Contalabutte could do all he wished but her heart had gone when Ruffdor was slain.

His hands let her go, his body moved away from her. He ordered her to pack and Briarose turned and moved away. She pulled the rope that would summon her ladies in waiting and it was not long before the three of them invaded the room. They began to bustle about, avoiding eye contact with their emperor.

Long dresses of heavy material to keep their Queen warm were neatly placed in a trunk. Lined cloaks, thinner cloaks, a few lighter dresses followed. The women packed for every possible temperature not wishing to make Briarose uncomfortable and risk facing Contalabutte’s disapproval.

Smaller trunks with her jewels, ribbons for her hair, brushes and combs followed. Blushes and giggles escaped the women as they packed the corsets and slips. Scented oils and perfumes for her baths were placed in another trunk.

Her eyes fell on the form of her husband again. Awaken her. He wished her to be as she was. He failed to understand that there was nothing for her here. Her children were gone and he had killed her love. It wasn’t just a kiss that woke her but true love’s kiss. It was Ruffdor and the fates knowing that they would love and care for each other, that they were meant to be. Briarose did not give much thought to whether or not she would have that again but she knew that Contalabutte was not her love. She was his prize, nothing more.

Her dress moved, brushing against the floor gently as Briarose crossed to where her embroidery had been left. She picked it up as one of the ladies came over. “Do you wish us to pack more than two? We think the Emperor will like them and we chose colours both flattering to you and which he enjoys.” She pointed to where the two satin shift nightgowns were taken out and gently wrapped. They too were placed in the trunk.

Briarose looked at the woman, unsure why she was asking her when they had already packed them. The woman mistook the look of confusion on the queen’s face, “For the honeymoon nights, when the emperor comes to your bed, my queen.”

Briarose gripped her embroidery. It had not occurred to her that he would come to her bed. She was to travel with him, his other wives that he had brought would remain here at the castle. The Queen looked around, her eyes slightly like those of a trapped animal.

“Oh my Queen! You are bleeding!”

She had paid no heed to where she placed her hands when she gripped the material and hoop. Her needle had punctured her palm. The ladies all dropped what they were doing, tending to the small wound on the queen’s hand. They moved Briarose, forcing her into the chair and inspected her hand.

“Oh tis only small. But my, you bleed heavily....”

Briarose looked down at her hand and then to the material now stained blood red. “Throw it in the fire.” Her soft command was followed immediately, the bloody cloth catching the flames and igniting.

“Please, I am fine. The Emperor wishes me packed. Please finish.” Briarose remained seated, her hand palm up in her lap as her women went about finishing up their tasks. It was not long before the trunks were closed and secured. The women curtsied to the emperor and Briarose before leaving the room swiftly. Two of them would be escorting the Queen to the mountain fortress in order to see to her needs.

Briarose remained seated but looked over to Contalabutte. “It is done my lord.” Her soft voice died as she turned away to stare at the fire. The mountains, the Darahurne and Contalabutte. She saw them all in the flames and it filled her with dread.

Contalabutte lingered in the chamber as Briarose and her ladies packed. He took a seat, crossing his arms and being a little bit huffy at first, recalling how Briar did not give him much when he kissed her, though he savored the taste she left him with. As he sat and stared at the activities, his mood improved. He took pleasure in watching the movement of her cloaks and dresses, her jewels and ribbons, all her fine accoutrements. How come he had never taken the time to watch one of his wives pack before? It was a delight for the senses, the colors, the soft textures, the fragrances, and the rustling sounds, and the chambermaids’ giggles.

And all of this finery is my right to remove, Contalabutte gloated to himself. He watched, unashamed, the discussion over the two satin nightgowns. He was pleased by the ladies in waiting, and how they knew his tastes so well. He did not take much stock of Briarose’s trapped expression, as he was too busy picturing her in the gowns in question. He ran his fingers through his blue-tipped beard, a gesture similar to a lion licking his chops.

The Emperor lifted his head in minimal concern as Briarose’s palm bled. He saw it as a sign that she was as distracted as he was, that she would place her hand unthinkingly upon a sharp object. Which reminded him of her story and the spindle...

“Careful, Briarose, where you lay your hand,” he cautioned. “You never know where an enchanted object might lurk. Always let your ladies pick something up for you.” He knew first hand how undercover rebels would try to assassinate him with cursed everyday objects. That’s why he let his servants do the handling for him, and on several occasions had seen them drop dead from a brush with anything from a cursed dinner fork to a shaving razor.

“Well done, my Love,” he complimented her when she announced the packing was finished. He rose from the chair and walked to where she sat. His eyes blazed with a reflection from the fire. “I look forward to seeing you in all of your finery.” He leaned over her and kissed the front of her bleeding hand.

Servants came and hauled out Briarose’s trunks. Contalabutte rose her by the hand and escorted her out of the castle with his arm cradling hers. “The Darahurne are waiting. Let us make our departure.”

Three winged shadows landed upon the choked soil outside of Castle Spindewas. The lead of the three winged creatures bowed his head to Contalabutte. With his croaky, aged voice Bujinnor the dragon - traitor adressed his master. "My lord, ive brought you the Darahurne. They seem eager to go. Shall i accompany you to their eyrie?" The armoured dragon asked. "Oh yeah, sure, the guys'll love a DRAGON coming to our hideout. You know, our mortal enemy? The creatures that sired individuals such as Meledim, Wurmen, Malagolos and......Mortimus? Those guys who performed such deeds as locking the elder race away from us? Who helped the empire to shove us out of our homeland? Who locked away our GOD? Yeah, theyll be over the godamn moon!" " Vrael muttered behind Bujinnor. Bujinnor pretended not to listen. He had heard it was better not to cross Vrael, it was said that Vrael was more sadistic than he and Contalabutte put together, plus Bujinnor could tell that the creature was gleefully insane. Bujinnor and his master had no time for such creatures. Bujinnor frowned and looked straight at his master, sending a message to his mind; "Mi'lord, i don't trust these two, honestly, i saw them in the Gnome slums before i picked 'em up. They were squashing gnome babies for a laugh! I highly recommend you let me come with you. I don't want to find out that you died. None of your children like me like you do. Id be a terrible advisor to them if one of them inherited the throne. Actually, come to think of it, youre the only person i know who likes me, so don't die. I'd have to go back to Matakin and Malagolos will have me killed. As i said, i want to come with you." Bujinnor cast a distrustful glance to Tael, who gave him a playful wave. He adored his master, he knew he was probably one of the few people who did, he wasn't going to lose his only 'friend' to the creatures who brought sorrow to his race for years on end. No, hed go with him, and pull any scum apart who made even an inch of a move on his master.

Vrael stepped out from behind Bujinnor. "C'mon gramps, move aside, let me speak to the man. Mi'lord, you didnt whistle. You made everything really boring, we were gonna appear in ash and brimstone and everything. Oh well, we're here now, and if this big lug is coming along i suppose you can follow us on the way. I believe theres room for both you and little beauty there on his back, if your breathe in, that is. That won't be hard for Briarose, such a dainty little flower is she." Tael nudged her brother/lover and hissed under her breath so that no one could hear. "Behavvvveee loverrrr boooyyyyy!" She smiled. "Sheeee issss prettttyyy thouuuughhhhh."

Vrael strode towards Contalabutte and presented him with a saliva covered badge that had belonged to the Fae guard hed eaten on his little trip. "Had a little visit to Effledus a few hours ago. Youll find out how very soon, but you might like to know that Day is still there, but i have a feeling he won't be there long. I assure you well catch him. There a man on the job right now. Or should i say Darahurne. Not a stupid scout, mind, this guys like nightmare incarnate. His name is Nebuleir. Youre both very alike, or at least you WILL be, very soon." He said mysteriously. "Now, little flower." He said, turning to Briarose." Shall we departeth?"

Contalabutte surveyed the courtyard outside of Castle Spindewas, pleased that it looked so miserable. The servants were stressed, unhappy, losing their hair and aging before his eyes. Even the prickly roses seem to wilt in despair. Briarose should be glad to leave her castle of 120 years for a bit.

He watched the dragons land, which was very much routine for him. Bujinnor, his dragon, was a familiar sight. Like Bujinnor, Contalabutte ignored Vrael’s spiteful muttering. He listened closely to the message from Bujinnor, delivered in the privacy of his mind. Contalabutte did not like servants that were repetitive about their messages, but Bujinnor was the exception. He appreciated his dragon and the adoration he showed.

‘You will be coming with us, Bujinnor. My trust in the Darahurne is lessening every moment I spend with them. But we can not forget their value as allies. We must humor them,’ Contalabutte returned a telepathic message to Bujinnor. He was not so skilled as the dragon in doing so, and so his mental speech was simple and halting.

After a bout of commentary, Vrael gave Contalabutte a slick and gooey badge. Contalabutte’s face torqued in disgust as he held the thing. It was worth an examination, though, as he saw that it was Fey-made and originated from Effledus’s royal palace.

“That is most interesting, Vrael, about your trip to Effledus. I look forward to finding out just what you mean,” the Emperor replied duly, handing the wet badge back to the Darahurne. When Vrael addressed Briarose, Contalabutte noticed that his wife stepped closer to him. He surmised that the Darahurne, ugly creatures that they were, must frighten her a bit.

“You may address my wife as Empress Briarose,” Contalabutte snapped at Vrael. Then he cleared his throat and tenderly touched Briarose’s arm. “Bujinnor and I will keep them in line, my love.”

With that said, he gestured towards Bujinnor’s middle, where a team of servants awaited to help them aboard the elaborate saddle, which was built up with a canopy to provide shelter to the riders. It was similar in structure to a litter, except it was powered by a dragon and not humans. It was very secure as well, with armored walls like the dragon, and there could be seen inside the windows many silken cushions to recline on.

“Ladies first,” Contalabutte insisted to Briarose, handing her off to the servants to be lifted into the saddle. Another dragon was being boarded with Briarose’s ladies in waiting. The third was being loaded with their luggage.
---
Briarose wasn't even aware that she had stepped away from the Darahurne. Contalabutte's hand on her arm made her turn. Empress. The word sounded forgein to her ears. She was Princess and then Queen. It didn't matter what she thought, Contalabutte wanted an Empress and so he had taken another one.

She looked almost blankly to where he gestured. The dragon it seemed was her transportation to the mountains. This one seemed to be under Contalabutte's control. This one she knew for it had helped him win against her husband, it had helped Contalabutte kill him and take his kingdom. Now she was expected to ride on him. Her hand was passed to a servant's who began to help her into the structure on the dragon. Compliant, Briarose let both her husband and the servant move her as they would.

"I am sorry Ruffdor."

Briarose's eyes moved back to the darahurne. She watched them through the window as she manouvered her dress. It was tucked to one side and Briarose sat on the cushions.

It was warm and comfortable and in different circumstances she might have dozed off. Briarose was far too conscious of how small the space was, how close Contalabutte would be to her once he joined her inside.

Her eyes closed and the image of the pixie messenger in its cage came forth in her mind's eye. The thing sitting behind the bars, just as she sat now.

A shiver overtook her. The pixie, her message. Briarose had no way of knowing if and when Day would get the pixie or what his reaction might be.

"Mortimus protect them...please." She wished the dragon could hear her.

Her hand clenched as she heard what sounded like another person climbing into the litter with her. Briarose turned her head, her eyes looking towards a window. Under her she could feel a faint movement as the dragon shuffled his feet and took his breaths.

It was not at all like being on horse back or in a carriage but an odd mix of the two. Briarose blinked. "Must not sleep." She wondered if the tea she had drunk had more than herbs to stimulate her appetite in it. It wouldn't be the first time that the kitchen had tried to ensure her rest.

"Little flower..." She gagged a little. Briarose could still hear the darahurne's voice in her head.

--

As Briarose was settled into the litter, Contalabutte thought back on what Bujinnor had told him, speaking that he feared for his life. The Darahurne were not creatures worthy of trust, as powerful as they were. And Contalabutte knew that he would not feel secure unless he had his most trusted General along with him.

“Franste,” Contalabutte turned to his chief advisor. “Has General Alcide received my summons?”

“Yes, Emperor. I sent a message to him the moment you mentioned it,” Franste replied dutifully.

“Good. We will not leave without him,” Contalabutte said, throwing his lavish cape to the side with a flourish. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the horizon. He often thought of General Alcide, wondered about him. The man held the title of the Greatest Swordsman of the Empire--everyone spoke of how he was impossible to beat, how he wielded the sword of an ancient king. His name was always on someone’s lips. He was so good--too good. Contalabutte couldn’t help but wonder how Alcide would fare in a fight with the Darahurne.

Vrael peered from behind Contalabutte
"General Alicide! In the flesh! By the stars, I'm a big fan. As i am with anything so skilled at killing. Killing is an art form. Us killers are masters at showing it off. May i say that.....you'd make a good darahurne"

He smiled and walked towards the General, rearing up, showing his height, and struck Alicide with his claw

"Come on then, sword boy. Let us sparr. That old fart Bujinnor will take age to get ready, and i want to see those sword skills I've heard so much about. It'll make a good spectacle for the emperor and that stunner next to him, and guess what? I'm not gonna kill you. Yep, I'm showing restraint."

He bared his fangs and snarled "Give me all you've got."