Earl Lirra rushed through the hallways of the castle with a guard of nine men surrounding him.

  There were relatively few people to be found in the halls, as all knew what to do once the alarms sounded. Those that should have known better than to be in the way found themselves shoved to the side without apology.

  The entourage moved with haste until they exited the castle proper, then quickly covered the ground to the gatehouse. The Earl had made the incautious decision to go there instead of the keep, despite the protestations of his guardsmen.

  From the sound of the bells, Earl Lirra knew them to be those above the gatehouse, and so he assumed the man on duty there had made the call to sound them. He wanted to know now why that was, so he came here instead of holing up in the keep and waiting for word from outside.

  As they approached, the sounds of the bells grew louder. They became almost deafening directly under the guard tower.

  When he reached the small guardhouse to the side of the main gate, the guards fell back as the Earl burst into the small structure. He immediately focused on the guardsman inside and advanced on him.

  “By LaKrona, I see no arrows or siege engines or troops or fires outside! Who gave you the order to sound the alarms!?”

  The guardsman’s eyes grew wide as his lord bore down on him. His young, barely bearded face was almost fully consumed by the gray metal helmet on his head.

  Tall and solidly built, the Earl towered over the young man.

  “Speak, man! WHO!?” The Earl shouted.

  “I did, my lord,” shouted a stern voice behind the Earl. A strong, stern voice the Earl recognized.

  Whirling quickly about, Earl Brentan Lirra frowned as he saw someone he would rather not see.

  Baron Garrick Varsus of Varsus Province stood before him. The man looked dour. Dour and haggard, as if he had seen hard travel.

  The Baron’s curly, deep auburn hair was matted, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His light beard was patchy and uneven. His clothes were rough and torn in places.

  Then the Earl saw that there were two other men with the Baron. The Earl assumed them to be the Baron’s own men. One man was in terrible shape. He lay on the ground and grimaced. His breathing was labored, and he was in obvious pain.

  The other man was clearly a hard man, and had what looked like a healed claw mark on his face, but from what animal, the Earl could not immediately tell. His frown deepened.

  The Earl had a difficult history with Baron Varsus.

  Although he had always liked the child and his father, and had respect for the man Garrick Varsus had become, his daughter’s misplaced infatuation with this man threatened to derail his own plans for his (currently non-existent) grand-progeny.

  Now was not the time for the Baron to appear. Not when efforts were underway to repair the damage his daughter had done with Prince Randall.

  He was about to shout to the Baron, and he realized the damned bells were still ringing.

  Pointing at the guard, he shouted. “Go up and silence those damned bells, boy!”

  “NO!” shouted Varsus and his man, both at once.

  Fury welled up in the Earl.

  “You do not countermand my orders! Especially not in my own house!”

  Varsus graciously bowed his head and stepped forward.

  “My apologies, my lord, but the bells are serving their purpose. Even now, you are under attack by a most insidious and unholy enemy sent from beyond the Hells!”

  The Earl drew back from the Baron. He stared hard at Garrick Varsus, trying to see some outward sign of insanity. He could find none, and so he did not know what response to make.

  The sound of the bells continued as Earl and Baron faced each other.

  Moments later, the door to the guardhouse burst inward again, and Claud, the Earl’s chief guardsman, rushed in.

  He did not bother assessing the situation, but began shouting to the Earl at once.

  “My Lord, Avalaine spoke truly! Both Lucas and Milton are dead, but that is not— it is not— !”

  Claud broke off, staring into space then.

  Earl Lirra saw Varsus and his man exchange a look, then Varsus stepped forward and grabbed the man by the shoulders. With powerful arms, he wrenched the man forcibly toward him.

  “You’ve seen the creature, haven’t you? What of Lady Avalaine?! Answer me!” Varsus shouted, his tone demanding.

  “Creature?!” shouted Claud, almost in hysterics. “Yes, it is a creature! It is not human!”

  “Where, man!?” shouted Varsus, almost screaming in Claud’s face.

  Claud did not respond quickly enough, and so Varsus roughly spun the man around and forced him out the door into the courtyard.

  “Take us there, now!” Varsus shouted, propelling Claud ahead of him. Earl Brentan saw Varsus’ man falling directly behind him as they moved.

  The Earl spluttered out a series of half-formed shouts, but was not quick enough to keep up with the events before him.

  He was outraged at the Baron assuming command of his castle and his people, but he truly did not know what was happening, so he had no choice but to follow along.

  His guards seemed paralyzed by indecision as well, so the Earl shouted at them.

  “You there!” he pointed at one of his nine guards. “You fetch medical help for him!” The Earl indicated the injured large man on the floor of the guardhouse.

  “The rest of you follow me!” the Earl shouted as he himself followed behind a fast moving Claud and Varsus.

  Then they all found themselves rushing back into the castle, instead of out of it, and most still had no idea of who they were supposed to be fighting.

  ***

  Avalaine felt herself spinning.

  No. She decided it was the room that was spinning, not her body.

  No, no. She revised her assessment again. It was the world and all of reality that was spinning out of control.

  She was swirling about like a fallen leaf in a fast moving current. There was nothing she could do but travel along and let it take her wherever it wanted to go.

  Blackness was all around. Coldness. She felt so nauseous. She felt sweat all over her body.

  But the worst was she felt that… thing. It was there. It was always there.

  Dark and evil, and… huge. Impossible large. It was a power so vast she could not comprehend it. Avalaine was certain that attempting to understand the totality of the thing would drive her mad.

  The only way to survive was to hope she was small enough that it would not notice her.

  Her hopes were dashed, shattered, then trampled and shredded.

  It saw her, and it laughed at her pathetic attempt to hide. She had never felt such contempt before. Not even hatred, just utter disdain and disgust.

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  The thing’s powerful, base, alien emotion washed over her, threatened to wash her away.

  Then it reached for her.

  Avalaine shot up from her resting position and squealed in terror.

  Immediately, the sense of crashing down into her body overtook her. She felt dirty and clammy and ill.

  Then Avalaine became more aware of her surroundings. She was in one of the designated safe areas in the castle. She heard the alarm bells ringing.

  They were under attack!

  Last, she noticed that the safe area was filled with women, some noble, many servants. She noticed they had all taken up places safely away from her. All were staring at her. The expressions on their faces ran the gamut from worried, to shocked, to mocking.

  Avalaine forced herself into a sitting position. Then she doubled over and retched.

  Another torrent of putrid white fluid spewed from Avalaine’s mouth, spraying all over the floor and onto a nearby couch.

  Cries of shock and disgust were heard around the room. Many shouted out, asking if Avalaine was well.

  Avalaine noticed none of them came close to see for themselves.

  But then hands closed on her shoulders.

  “Avvy, you need help,” said Myria. “I knew they would bring you here.”

  Avalaine was so cold. Even Myria’s hands felt icy to her.

  “Myrry… something’s wrong with me,” Avalaine said, looking down at her shaking hands. Her own voice sounded weak to her.

  “I should think that is the understatement of the evening, Lady Avalaine!” came a sharp, chirpy voice.

  Avalaine didn’t have to raise her head to know that it was Lady Somaly. The girl could not keep a leash on her tongue in the best of times.

  Somaly came as close as she dared to the congealing puddle of viscous white fluid Avalaine had just expelled. She bent over, squinting into the mess as if she had lost something in it.

  “My Lady, what did you eat? I think the cooks may need a good drubbing for this!”

  As usual, Lady Somaly took no care to consider her surrounding when she spoke.

  They shared the space with many of the female servants, quite a few of whom worked in the kitchens with the cooks. They frowned and stared daggers at Somaly, but said nothing.

  “Lady. Somaly.” Myria said. Just those two words.

  “But Lady Myri… uhhh,” Lady Somaly trailed off.

  Avalaine raised her head. It wasn’t like Somaly to ever shut up, even when rebuked by a superior.

  The look on Somaly’s face startled her. The younger girl was afraid. Avalaine watched her step backwards, right into the puddle Avalaine had retched up.

  But Somaly didn’t care. She kept backing up, not even bothering to raise the hem of her skirt to clear the mess.

  Avalaine sat up straighter and turned to see what Somaly had been looking at.

  That is when she saw Myria.

  Avalaine drew in a breath at the sight of her friend.

  Myria looked drawn and pale. Much more pale than Avalaine had ever seen her. There were dark circles under her eyes.

  Those eyes. They bored into Somaly’s retreating form, and Avalaine could feel… something… coming from her friend.

  But even worse, she realized the fact she could feel anything at all from Myria meant the worst.

  Marshaling her strength, Avalaine pushed herself off of the couch and faced her friend.

  “Oh, Myrry,” she said. “What happened to you?”

  Myria turned to face her. Avalaine noted the movements were too smooth, similar to what she had observed of Tobias earlier.

  Myria stood. The two women faced each other. Avalaine swayed with the effort of standing, but Myria was stone still.

  The room had gone quiet. All the women who had been chatting with one another stopped to watch the odd confrontation.

  Avalaine took in her friend’s bearing. Myria looked as if she were carved out of marble. Her face was expressionless.

  The bright eyes peering out from the dark circles lent Myria a sinister look. Avalaine felt herself break out in a cold sweat.

  Maybe I am wrong, thought Avalaine. I don’t feel well. I am seeing things.

  Unfortunately, Myria’s next words dashed that fantasy.

  “You have something that belongs to my master,” said Myria. The tone was cold, yet it was still her friend’s voice.

  “Give it to me,” Myria continued.

  Avalaine felt ill again, and clutched at her stomach. It roiled again, and another wave of nausea ran through her.

  “What you are feeling is what comes from owning something that is meant for those above your station,” Myria said.

  Avalaine shook her head. The motion made her dizzy.

  “What are you talking about? Myria, what happened to you? Please, let me help you—”

  “Help me? HELP ME??” Myria shouted, her face contorting into a monstrous display of angled teeth and animal features.

  The sight of Myria’s face caused Avalaine to remember Tobias, and she sank to her knees.

  “Myrry, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to do!”

  Most of the women in the room had not seen Myria’s face as it contorted, and she recovered herself. There were only a few women of equal rank to Myria, and none as highly ranked as Avalaine, so they did not intervene.

  “You have a crystal, almost palm sized,” said Myria. “That fool Gemple gave it to you at Wademount.”

  Avalaine could not even look at Myria. She started crying, her tears mixing with the sweat on her face.

  “Gemple… I don’t remember,” said Avalaine.

  Myria’s face twisted into a sneer as she looked down at Avalaine.

  “Of course you don’t. Men give you things all the time. Flowers, jewels, poems, devotion. But you. Don’t. Remember.”

  Avalaine could hear the contempt in her friend’s voice, but tried to reason with her.

  “Please, Myrry, let’s—”

  “THE CRYSTAL,” Myria interrupted. “It is responsible for your distress. Give it to me and you will feel much better, I promise.”

  Now Avalaine felt as if she were burning up. Still on her knees, she leaned against the couch for support.

  “I… don’t have it,” said Avalaine. Her thoughts were whirling, and she now felt both cold and hot. The vast emptiness was opening around her again.

  “You don’t have to have it here,” Myria snapped. “Just give it to me! Tell me it is mine and all will be well!”

  Avalaine noted some urgency in her friend’s voice. It snapped her back to the present.

  Looking up, she caught a fleeting look of fear on Myria’s face, but it was masked almost immediately.

  Myria knelt down to speak to Avalaine face to face. She took Avalaine’s hands in hers.

  They were ice cold.

  “Avvy,” Myria said, “I just want you to feel better. Give me the crystal. It is harming you, but it will not harm me. Haven’t I always shielded you from danger? Haven’t I always done the scut work so that you wouldn’t have to?”

  The cold hands increased the pressure on Avalaine’s.

  “The master… he is terrible, Avvy,” Myria whispered. “If he does not get the crystal, I do not know what he will do!”

  Avalaine felt a rush of overwhelming fear when Myria mentioned her master. As if she could feel an awful presence connected to Myria.

  And to herself.

  She pulled her hands away from Myria.

  In that instant Avalaine saw Myria’s face contort in anger.

  The next instant there was a cold hand wrapped tight around her neck, crushing it. Avalaine did not have time to cry out.

  She was jerked forward with little effort on Myria’s part.

  Then Myria stood, still holding Avalaine by the throat. Avalaine felt herself lifted into the air, again with apparent ease, and her face was brought directly in front of Myria’s, which now looked savage and alien.

  “You worthless bitch!” Shouted Myria, directly in Avalaine’s face.

  The other women in the room all gasped and exclaimed loudly. Many shouted out to Lady Myria by name to stop.

  Instead of stopping, Myria shook Avalaine like a child’s doll. Avalaine felt her teeth rattle at the violent action, and all she could do was listen to the other women screaming and shouting.

  The door to the safe area burst inward, and a lone guard entered.

  “What is all this caterwauling!?” The guardsman demanded, then his eyes fell onto Avalaine, suspended in the air by a slight girl who not be able to hold another woman off the ground.

  The guard shot forward, but did not draw his weapon.

  “You womenfolk settle down now!” the guard shouted.

  “And you!” he shouted at Myria, “what is the meaning of all of this—”

  Avalaine felt herself flung to the ground. She hit hard, and her vision blurred, but not before she saw Myria tear out the guard’s throat with her bare hand.

  The screaming became hysterical. The volume and intensity now ten-fold what it had been.

  Another guard attempted entry into the room, but Myria, moving faster than could be believed, appeared before the man, then pushed him back out of the door.

  Avalaine, now on her hands and knees, saw the poor guard nearly launched down the corridor by Myria’s terrible strength.

  Then Myria slammed the door. Next, she snatched up a heavy wooden table as if it were made from straw, then shoved it against the door to wedge it closed.

  Turning, she faced her hostages.

  “Every last one of you is going to die, unless Lady Avalaine Lirra gives me what I want.”

  Avalaine felt her mind being overwhelmed, and then darkness closed in on her.

  ***

  Vizron had grown tired of waiting for his minion to deliver the mortal female.

  As usual, he was going to have to do everything himself.

  Tearing open space and time, Vizron stepped from Myria’s chambers to where he had sent his male lackey.

  What he found puzzled him.

  There was his fool minion, outside the door of the woman’s bedchambers. He was simply standing there. And there were several dead mortals at his feet.

  “Lackey,” said Vizron, his voice harsh and cold. “Where is the female?”

  “T-Tobias, my lord,” said the lackey, who immediately knew he had made a mistake, as he saw the expression on his master’s face become one of terrible fury.

  Pain exploded in Tobias then, and he felt himself coming undone somehow. He felt as if he were being pulled in an infinite number of directions, and he screamed, howling in agony.

  It had only been a brief chastisement, but Tobias never wanted to feel anything like that again.

  “Master! I am sorry! Please forgive me!”

  “Answer my question, fool,” said Vizron, his voice somehow even more cold than before.

  “The female, she bade me remain here, then these other men came and I had to kill them, but—”

  “Hold!” snapped Vizron. He stepped directly in front of Tobias. The red eyes filled Tobias’s vision.

  “You say she bade you remain here?”

  “Y-yes, master, she said—”

  Vizron’s hand shot out and covered the face of his minion. With monstrous strength, he pushed Tobias back against the hallway wall.

  Tobias felt his mind being roughly explored, and to his horror, the connection went both ways.

  He experienced far more than he wanted of Vizron’s inner self, and his master’s dark connection to an impossibly cold, dark void.

  Then the intrusion ended, and Tobias sank to the floor, tears pouring down his face.

  “No,” said Vizron. “This cannot be.”

  Then the door at the end of the hallway burst open, and a band of men poured through it.

  Vizron turned, smiling at the sight.

  “Pawn!” He shouted. “It has been too long!”

  “You unholy creature!” Varsus shouted back, breaking into a run, his sword at the ready.

  “Master!” shouted Tobias, who had regained his feet. “I cannot leave this place until she bids me to do so! They have come to kill me! Help me!”

  Vizron turned to look at Tobias, and he could see contempt and utter disgust on his master’s face.

  Therefore, he was not surprised at Vizron’s next words.

  “You disgust me,” the lich said, his voice flat. He turned away from Tobias.

  Then he began to fade away, but before he did so, he called out to Baron Varsus.

  “Know I go now to kill your precious female, pawn!”

  Dry, harsh laughter filled the air, lasting even after Vizron had completely faded away.

  “No!!” shouted Varsus, but he was too late to do more than swing his blade through empty air.

  He knew he had to get to Avalaine quickly, or else she would not survive.