Wraith Walker

Chapter 1

"Kneel."  

In a rustle of cloaks the six Wraith Walkers, Captain and Second in front, sentries in back, dropped to their knees in front of stone dais. They were silent, eyes downcast to the cold emerald floor as the great Witch King of Tyanth strode through the doorway behind them. They had been waiting only minutes after informing Kethan, the Hand of the King, that they had returned.

"Kethan says you've brought me another one." His voice was not the booming voice of a ruler, but buttery soft. Deep. The voice of a promise, of a lover, of a King who had ruled for the last hundred years with the same six companions not under his rule, but beside him in time.

"Ah," he said, a slight purring to his voice as he passed the Walkers. He surveyed the bound man, unmoving and quiet but wide-eyed with fear. He turned to the Captain of the kneeling Wraiths.

"Is this your doing, Godslayer?"

The Godslayer gave a slight nod, not raising her eyes to the Witch King.

"Well done. You may rise." 

Five of the Wraiths remained kneeling, though they all lifted their heads to their King, their friend. Only Tamsin Caraxis, Godslayer of the Witch Kingdom Tyanth and Captain of the Wraith Walkers, stood and faced him.

Tamsin watched as Sasha Deneholm, King of the Witches and Ruler of Tyanth, climbed the steps to the throne. The Tyanth crown perched upon his brow caught a glimmer of sunlight through the steep cathedral windows. Ornately cast from hematite, the crown had been worn through the rule of Tyanth monarchs for the last 5000 years. The throne was at least twice as old. Smoke from the springs beneath the palace had been routed through tunnels in the foundation and enchanted. Dark and sparse, it swirled lazily on the floor until the Witch King reached the top of the dais and stepped towards it. As though sensing his presence, the smoke rose upwards and pressed in on itself to form a dark, glittering seat with wisps dancing around the base.

He sat, his dark eyes meeting Tamsin's gaze.

"Let's have a look." He gestured to the bound man.

Tamsin stepped to where the man lay, still dressed in her hunting veil. It was part of the Wraith Walkers' uniform, and they had been ushered straight to the Throne Room once they had returned to the castle. For five days they had travelled from the midcoast of Tyanth with the prisoner, tentatively hoping he would be the one.

The Throne Room was massive, one of Tamsin's favorites. High ceilings with swirling moulding and a glittering emerald floor. Large stained glass portraits lined the walls and branches from the courtyard trees could be seen dancing in the wind. Gleaming black pews of oak filled the space from the double doors at the back, split by a black carpet aisle-way, stopping fifty feet from the dais.

On the left of the dais, a door to the courtyard. On the right, a stone wall held a variety of shapes and lengths of shackles. On mounted railings hung a manner of sharp instruments, all copper. A new installation since the Seer's proclamation of his impending death.

Tamsin seized the bound man and hauled him to his knees. He made no noise. He probably couldn't considering he'd spent the last five days since being captured begging for his life while the Wraiths hauled him across the territory to the capital.

Sasha leaned forward, peering at the man.

"Is he one of ours?"

"Yes," Tamsin answered. "Thiphania tasted him. Witch mainly. Some Canin. Thiphania thought there was a bit of Naga blood there, too."