‘Harrington Hall,’ Manach calmly said.

  ‘I know Harrington Hall. Isn’t it an upmarket building? By Atansupra’s lowly standards.’

  ‘Laird Murray owns it.’

  ‘Well, thanks.’

  Manach gave a polite nod.

  ‘Do you plan on travelling to Atansupra?’

  ‘I do. Selina will join me. Won’t you?’

  ‘Of course,’ Selina replied.

  ‘Both of you. Please be careful,’ Tasgall calmly said.

  He got up from his desk, meeting Selina’s alluring gaze as they embraced each other before parting ways.

  Heavy cast-iron doors closed behind Laird Murray, marshalled down a black carpeted aisle that opened into a circular chamber, lit up at either side by ferocious burning braziers, where three hooded figures stood awaiting him. He was sweating profusely. He had a clear understanding that his life was riding on this interaction.

  Laird Murray approached the man in the centre. He pulled down his hood, revealing himself to be Master Assassin Ombra. Dark circles under his eyes, with slicked-back black hair. He stared through Laird Murray, clearly infuriated by his presence. ‘You’ve got some nerve showing your face in Atansupra.’

  Laird Murray gulped. ‘I—I have information.’

  ‘Out with it!’

  ‘Elyna’s alive.’

  The two hooded assassins on either side turned their heads towards Ombra, who went pale. His eyes darted around, trying to comprehend the revelation. ‘How?’

  Laird Murray grinned. ‘The Brotherhood spared her at Loch Arbatur. She knew you had set her up with that abduction mission. I believe the Brotherhood returned three Seltookra insignias to throw you off the trail.’

  Ombra clenched his jaw and balled his fist as darkness stewed in his midst. ‘What purpose does Elyna serve the Brotherhood?’

  ‘She’s got very close to the Brotherhood, but she spends most of her time with the librarian, Selina.’

  ‘A librarian?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What does this librarian do?’ Ombra demanded.

  ‘Educates the citizens and tries to keep them out of trouble. But that's half the story. She’s involved with the Brotherhood in some capacity.’

  ‘Did Elyna let names slip?’

  ‘Yes. She spoke of how you had betrayed her. Heard no one else's name mentioned.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’ Ombra moved closer, towering over the much smaller Laird Murray.

  ‘I had two informants.’

  ‘Had?’

  ‘Both dead. By the Braemuir Brotherhood’s sword.’

  ‘And now you come here seeking an alliance to save your sorry existence?’ a ruthless feminine voice snapped to the left of Ombra.

  ‘I believed the information regarding Elyna would be valuable to you.’

  ‘What took you so long to bring this to us?’

  ‘Communication lines ceased after the debacle at Loch Arbatur,’ Laird Murray asserted. ‘We were planning on bringing Elyna to you as a show of goodwill, but the Brotherhood appears to have a sixth sense. Staging a rescue mission at the eleventh hour.’

  ‘What do you want from us?’ Ombra asked.

  ‘I want us to reconvene with our business agreements. For the time being, I plan on running my operation from Harrington Hall, with your blessing, of course.’

  Ombra held a dark, cunning crackle in his face. ‘We can reconvene our business together, and you are welcome to stay in Atansupra as long as you wish. However, all business will be on a seventy-five to twenty-five split in favour of the League of Seltookra.’

  Laird Murray’s face went purple with rage. ‘T-T-That’s not fair! Damn it!’

  ‘Fair? Perhaps you need a reminder of who we are.’

  Ombra pointed with both his hands as the two hooded figures to his left and right stepped forward, taking down their hoods. The one on the left had short black hair that curved inward at her neck, devious yellow eyes and soft leathery skin; the other had black hair tied up in a bun, tanned skin, and gaping green eyes.

  ‘Meet Nyla.’ Ombra grinned, pointing to his left. ‘And Kali.’ As he pointed to his right. ‘Give our guest a warm welcome, ladies.’

  Laird Murray’s heart rate skyrocketed. ‘We have a deal, damn it! Leave me be!’

  Nyla and Kali closed the distance in a shadowy flash as they grabbed either side of Laird Murray. Kali pulled out a black-obsidian and yellow-handled dirk, holding it to Laird Murray’s panic-stricken face, pulling down his white collar before carving a lightning bolt into Laird Murray’s neck. He screamed in pain as blood rushed down his neck. Kali and Nyla kept a hold of him as Nyla pulled out her weapon, carving a lightning bolt into the other side of his neck. As they let go of him, he flopped to his knees, touching his bloodied neck.

  ‘Get out of here,’ Ombra callously said.

  Laird Murray gradually got to his feet, blood dripping from his collar, which stained his white shirt as he waddled along the aisle, now a shadow of his former self.

  Ombra waited for the door to close before reconvening. ‘Very good. Nyla and Kali.’

  ‘Let us take care of Elyna. She is a weakling,’ Nyla insisted.

  ‘No. We are very close to war. The Council of Naldenveer expects our presence. We will wait until then.’

  ‘We don’t even know Elyna’s purpose. She may not even be on the battlefield,’ Kali soothingly said.

  ‘Until we do. I won’t sign off on either of you going after her. Do we still have scouts in Osela?’ Ombra enquired.

  ‘We do.’

  ‘Then have them dig around, and if they can watch Elyna without being spotted, then get them to do so.’

  ‘We will reach out immediately.’ Nyla and Kali walked sleekly away.

  ‘Good, and then come back and see me. We must gather the rest of the assassin network before travelling to the plains of Kalseadur.’

  Ombra grinned as they glanced backwards with cunning smirks.

  Elyna left the meeting with Tasgall, eager to get some space as she adeptly climbed up the back of a sandstone tenement using the indentations in the architecture to place her feet in and pull herself upward. She sat atop the building with her bottom on the dark tiled roof, with her legs hanging off the edge. She had a moonlit view of the Braemuir Monastery as she laid eyes on the ever-mysterious Brae Tower, raised up on a steep slope. Elyna could not focus completely. She still couldn’t believe she had agreed to go to Naldenveer to assassinate the king and queen of Shiel’Dura. Things had changed dramatically in the space of several weeks. She had gone from giving up on assassination altogether after Loch Arbatur to attempting to become a do-good scholar to joining the Sisterhood of Osela, training others in the art of assassination before being shackled by the manipulative Hamish, who had planned to bring her back to Master Assassin Ombra. If it hadn’t been for Hutch, she’d be dead. Elyna couldn’t think about how lucky she had been, needing to press ahead, hoping her luck wasn’t about to dry up. She would travel to Atansupra in a day’s time to locate Laird Murray, arriving at night; in broad daylight, she would be exposed, and the network of Seltookra would pick them up instantaneously. Coming to Atansupra at night gave Elyna and Selina a chance at not raising any sirens. Elyna wasn’t entirely sure what she would do with Laird Murray. It depended a lot on whether he had spoken to the league. From what she had been told, Laird Murray was a despicable and greedy character who had ridden his luck endlessly. Elyna couldn’t be mad. We all need a shine from time to time. But with everything that had happened with the Brotherhood, she and Selina would do everyone a favour by dispatching the cunning swine known to triple-cross just to stay alive. Elyna wondered what it would feel like to set foot back in Atansupra. It had been her home for years, and she had even left a room full of her stuff. Perhaps she would collect a few things. Although she half expected the assassins would have scoured it after learning of her death. Thieving cretins. Once a thief, always a thief. Elyna wasn’t sure that was true. She hadn’t had the remotest inclination to steal since she had left the league. Maybe more indicative of the company she now kept.

  She continued to stare solely at Brae Tower. She could sense a torrent of power emanating from its visible dark outline, courtesy of the moonlight. She remembered Selina speaking of the Lady of the Brae and Muir and how they connected to the Sisterhood of Osela. Whatever their role, it didn’t appear to be on the physical plane. Elyna wanted to know more about the mysterious twin sisters. She probed with her mind’s eye towards the tower, more in hope than expectation.

  ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ a soothing voice said.

  Elyna turned to see the silhouette of a white-robed woman balancing perfectly on the tip of the slanting roof.

  ‘You sought my attention, and thus, you have it.’

  ‘Lady of the Brae?’ Elyna asked, standing to face her.

  ‘I have kept a close eye on you. Many unknowns exist ahead of you. In the truest sense, you understand the continuum of the Benevolent and Malevolent, such is your experience. All timelines and paths will converge in uniformity.’

  ‘What of the Benevolent and the Malevolent?’

  ‘They are vying for supremacy. You have chosen the Benevolent path, guided and hastened towards your duty.’

  ‘But I never had a say, did I?’

  ‘No, remember those words back at Loch Arbatur? — Proceed you must.’

  Elyna’s head cocked back as though a jolt of energy had zapped her as she recalled that inner directive she had received that day and how strong and assuring it had been. ‘I do.’

  ‘You must proceed, for that is your destiny.’

  ‘But I thought when everything transpired the way it did that I was veering away from my assassination roots. I questioned my ability after a few unsuccessful missions.’

  ‘You did not fail those missions because you were unfit to fulfil your duty; rather, you were walking with the wrong people on the wrong path. Such has been the duplicity of the Malevolent’s will to sidetrack and subvert, keeping the individual ignorant of what they know internally to be right.’ Lady of the Brae paused before continuing. ‘Destroying individual confidence and encouraging compliance to collective rule—that is what Ombra did to you. He took your power in order to make you less powerful. You are the shadow, guiding the light.’

  Elyna pieced fragments together in her mind. Strange happenings and occurrences she could not explain to herself. A reassuring clarity filled her spirit as she smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  Lady of the Brae gave a nod. ‘Remember, Selina has awoken to who she is; you two have an entwined path together; you will execute your destinies.’

  Lady of the Brae disappeared abruptly into the night, her silhouette vanishing before the eyes, wise but cryptic messaging piercing into her mind as she returned to her previous position. Questions were plentiful, but proceed she must.

  Chapter Three

  Hold on to the art

  that spindles and weaves

  beloved

  essence of life

  Tol Igar

  Compendium of Musings

  The Knights of Klertinmor sat around the round table, adorned with white marble and a ruby gemstone. The red and white tapestries hung prestigiously from the high, hand-carved ceilings as the light from the three black-panelled windows illuminated the entire room. Maximus sat at the head of the table. ‘Knights, we are days away from an age-defining moment where the forces of benevolence and malevolence will meet on the plains of Kalseadur. I have received word from High Elder Tasgall of the Braemuir Brotherhood that he will send two trusted assassins known to him, who have agreed to assassinate King Drusus and Queen Melantha and rescue the legitimate Queen Elsbeth so she may unify with her divine equal, King Jerome. Once this is complete, we will have fulfilled part of our duty to restore the House of Shiel’Dura to its former glory. But when one duty ends, another begins. Besides, we must come out victorious against the League of Seltookra and the Council of Naldenveer.’ Maximus paused as each knight stayed silent, awaiting him. ‘Now, there has been a startling revelation in the energetics near Klertinmor. It appears the previous darkness held within Loch Albra has ceased. It has long been a hot spot for archdemons who trap souls. Portier Jarvis informed me that the souls were released. Which can only mean one thing… a Demonslayer.’

  Louis looked confused. ‘A Demonslayer?’

  ‘The Demonslayer can penetrate the below realms and dispatch the archdemons who syphon great swaths of energy from the souls they trap, and from the energetic landmass as well,’ Maximus said boldly.

  Kaspian cut in sternly. ‘Except every Demonslayer throughout the ages has succumbed to the will of the archdemons.’

  ‘Correct. We need to establish who they are and whether he will fulfil his duty. Portier Jarvis is already following his scent.’

  ‘Surely, it is a promising sign that Loch Albra has cleared?’ Oswald enquired cheerily.

  ‘Of course, those poor souls have remained trapped there since the beginning of the First Age, and who knows what existed before then? Whatever existed before eludes the records,’ Maximus replied.

  ‘And whoever has been wiping the records has done an exemplary job,’ Minfred huffed.

  ‘No kidding. It's almost as though we’re not supposed to find out about how this world came to be, as well as understand the implications of the Benevolent and Malevolent,’ Francois inserted.

  ‘They are the creators of the Tyrora Archipelago, aren’t they?’ Felix said.

  Francois said, ‘Yes, but who acts above them? How did they come to be?’

  Reginald replied, ‘These types of questions expand our perception of all that is.’

  Maximus sat listening intently. As much as he enjoyed these types of enquiring discussions, he had to refocus the conversation. ‘I appreciate the action of your thoughts. But we must prepare ourselves for the possibility of the Demonslayer giving in to the demonic whispers and attempting to become a ruling archdemon. We cannot allow this to happen and must be prepared to kill him if we get the opportunity,’ Maximus paused. ‘I believe there is a culmination unlike anything this island has ever witnessed in recent history. While we may not be privy to the exact workings of this realm. We must see this as an opportunity for the Benevolent to prevail against the Malevolent. Our ruby blueprint calls on us to drive all that is evil from the Isle of Ophlen and restore the highest ideals.’

  ‘The divine power emanates,’ Oswald chimed.

  A silence fell momentarily as the knights collected their thoughts. This time, Guillaume broke the silence. ‘What news have we received from Atansupra?’

  ‘The Willowmen will stand with us,’ Maximus confirmed.

  ‘Who are the Willowmen?’ Tomas curiously asked.

  Minfred leaned forward. ‘The Willowmen are elite bowmen. Throughout the ages, we have kept on good terms with them. Doing favours and trading various goods between us. They shift from place to place, staying nowhere too long. They are men of nature who wish to rid corruption from the Isle.’

  ‘What are their numbers?’

  ‘We do not know. We will take whatever help we can get,’ Minfred acknowledged.

  ‘Do they have a leader?’

  ‘Yes. His name is Arkelo. But knights, you must understand, they do not wish to engage in the collaborative ways that other factions do. They have a strong bond to the land. Nature's emerald essence shifts through them. They are flexible and adaptable, yet will disappear when their duty is complete,’ Maximus stated.

  ‘If my knowledge is correct, are they not beholden to a High Druidess?’ Kaspian confidently said.

  Maximus nodded. ‘Although history cannot guide us towards the truth. The High Druidess has become a concoction of fairy tale and myth. Her story is one of ascension. The Willowmen know the truth, and the rest of us remain on the outside of nature’s affairs.’

  Lachlann walked fearlessly forward as he approached the greystone pillars, shaped like sharp spikes, marking the many entranceways into Atansupra as he walked through, burning with unbridled intensity. The Claymore of Shaldorahuran pulsed furiously on his back as the shadows seemed to seep out from his demonic aura. He appeared to be becoming more and more attuned to the shadows, and it was manifesting on the physical plane as various folk gasped and scurried away in terror. Lachlann kept his rhythmic pace. He had become accustomed to people fearing his presence before he had become Demonslayer. He didn’t take their reactions personally; rather, it gave him an inner strength. People spent entire lifetimes trying hopelessly to be different and to be noticed. Lachlann was different in spades. The natural force with which he managed his energy could put an entire room of people on edge. He carried great power, but he had a responsibility to himself to control the rage he could unleash in a millisecond. He wasn’t entirely sure what had led him to Atansupra. Perhaps this was an aftereffect of his meeting with Evangeline, who had initially tried to convince him he was in her home in Atansupra. He wondered how she had gotten on with speaking to her hidden master about releasing the souls from Loch Albra. Lachlann had used his meeting with Mathos as a bargaining chip. He wondered when the cunning ascendant would rear its scythe. Atansupra was a shabby place. Dodgy dealings occurred on the main cobbled street, which had a thick layer of muck over it. So much so that his foot would slide off randomly from time to time, which made him focus on planting his feet correctly. Lachlann was aware he was gathering a significant following as he made his way past the blocks of dimly lit, shadowy tenements where smoke poured endlessly out of half-cracked open windows. He knew he would attract the League of Seltookra’s attention by walking through Atansupra, yet he didn’t care. He had come here to see what was happening, having witnessed a ritual take place, yet he wasn’t sure of its true purpose, and to the best of his knowledge, he believed that ritual had come from Naldenveer, and it had something to do with the Salfizor constellation. Perhaps he could extract information while he was here. He reached a derelict and dirt-covered fountain, sitting on what remained at the bottom tier, as he observed the crowds of people gathering around. Many people wore grubby brown and navy outfits. But within the crowd, Lachlann could see the black face coverings of assassins peering at him. Would they be bold enough to pounce on him? Lachlann smirked, almost goading the assassins forward. By now, the assassins would know exactly who he was, the one with the facial scars, but with the green glow of the Claymore of Shaldorahuran on his back, it had become a two-horse race for notoriety between his mortal and demon soul. He sat patiently as shadowy energy poured out around his body. Suddenly, a figure dressed head to toe in tight-fitting black assassin garb stepped forth. Lachlann stared at him, staying perfectly poised, being mindful to check his periphery for an ambush.