The Warden

Chapter 54

Charlan's smile gleamed bone-white in the moons' light as Masis dropped back into the glade. The six other wights around her balked as he approached, like horses shying from something in the night, their feet unsteady and ready for flight. Charlan did not flinch. But she would have given anything to scour Masis' pungent, doggy odor from her nose.

Can't be too picky though, thought Charlan, practically purring. I'll be ruling all Haimlant soon.

With stiff strides and a rigid back Masis stopped in front of her.

Her companions again shifted uneasily. News of Lord Markham's demise had spread quickly through the ranks. Then one also had to consider that standing before them was the killer of Captain Ansleth and her entire squad. All those points had quickly made Masis Domrae the thing that went bump in the night for more than a few wights. Death—a concept centuries extinct for most of her people—now stood before them. Mortality had an annoying way of asserting itself.

"If you have done anything to her..." growled Masis, still in his wolvan form.

"Come, come," tutted Charlan, "I do know how to be a gracious hostess."

"So, Captain Biligrim is still alive?" asked Masis, dead-eyed.

"Yes," said Charlan, cocking her hips while crossing her arms. "Even Master Elwith. Really, Masis, why would I hurt any of them while I have your full cooperation?"

His hands balled into fists, white and trembling, as his jaw bulged as he clenched his teeth. He made to step forward, but Charlan spoke, stopping him in place.

"Now, as I'm sure you're anxious to be reunited with your friends and loved one, I suggest we start back. It's quite a ways."

She turned, gesturing for Masis to take the lead. He wilted back into his human form, stalking past her without so much as a glance, and she turned, following close on his heels. Her underlings broke apart quickly to let him pass, before forming ranks and falling in step just behind her. Soon the dark passageway swallowed all of them.

Though no light existed, Charlan still made out the dimensions of the space. This was her domain. This was her seat of power. Darkness—impenetrable, fathomless, unknowable—based in a land shrouded by myth and nightmare, both of which would only grow now that her and her people had been granted absolute governance over this place.

The night was hers. Soon, once she had subdued and corrupted the Warden correctly, he and his offspring would give her the day. With both night and day, Haimlant, more importantly its people and their lifelight, would be hers. All hers.

Is that what you want? asked Andsek's voice in her mind, mocking as usual. All Haimlant?

Charlan kept gliding forward, working her jaw back and forth. She took deep, deliberate breaths, contemplating whether or not she actually wanted to engage in another argument with herself. Some deep impulse—like hunger driving one to feast—compelled her to answer, to justify herself.

She swallowed. Of course, it is.

You can't lie to me, mommy, tsked the imaginary Andsek. I'm in your head.

Conscious of the eyes at her back, Charlan rolled her neck as though working out tension or fading excitement. I am not lying to anyone. Myself included.

Hmm, isn't it amazing? asked the imagined Andsek. Charlan could just imagine his face, a meek mask barely concealing his arrogant instructiveness.

What is? asked Charlan, the absurdity of asking herself a question not lost on her.

How much she's twisted you to her own purposes.