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Terohon Azkrin, lich and former king of the Underworld, had chosen probably the most plausible choice for his base of operations. The very hall that had once been the main court in the palace of Kvria, when the Draclin province had still been full of life and not the barren ruins its last king and a Grim had driven it into. Voices of those that still lurked whispered in the shadows, and Nairne's ears flattened halfway out of nervousness. The Kiens...and their Fantasan children, were not meant to be left unattended when they died. Too close was the connection between body and soul. If last rites and cleansing, preferably by fire, were not performed then their souls would not rest. Instead, they would be doomed to haunt the physical plane until someone released them.
Nairne wanted to, badly, as she walked the halls past bloodstains and the occasional dried bones. It was a shadow spell that would do it, one she could perform by right of her family though she herself had not followed the path of a priestess. Where fire would not reach, shadow would always suffice when one had the gift. Danaus, still padding behind her though he had shifted to his humanoid form, seemed almost unaware of the whispers and pleadings that surrounded them. The Dysiniu hated him all the more for it. What worse punishment than to be plunged into this place admist the pleadings, while being followed by the very individual half responsible for the state of things and the countless deaths? For the moment, his masculine interest in her was forgotten, and Nairne's hatred seathed against him for a different reason. Nothing more would she have liked then to turn around and rend his head from his shoulders by pure muscle strength; but she could not. The things I do for my Queen, Nairne thought grimly, golden eyes pressed half-closed as she tread down those halls. Finally the narrow corridor gave way to a much larger room and Nairne blinked in the sudden light streaming in from the large, paned windows. At least in Terohon's dominant lair it had been scrutinously cleaned; most of the spirits likely banished. Over the centuries many of them had become too weak and far gone to be much good other than in a necromancer's thrall; save under intense spell reconstruction. The lich did not wish to put the effort into them: they were not his objective. What he was after he had already partly obtained, and that was hidden in the treasury beneath the palace. Briefly, Nairne had become curious as to just what was hidden in there. Terohon had not told her anything of it and it seemed that information was kept confidential between him and his newly established allied consorts. Once, she had ventured to ask Danaus about it, using her naturally curious nature to disguise her desire for meaningful information. But the Draclin'geyar had just shrugged his shoulders too quickly and offhandedly for her to think that he was hiding something. Even to her, for she was intensely good at reading people. Nairne had never thought the lich to be particularly pretentions. Yet as she set paw on the floor of the main court the thought accured to her quite vividly. Terohon had decorated the area with tapestries featuring several of the more beautiful scenes in the Underworld, places Nairne herself had gone out of her way to view. At the end sat Terohon on his silver-toned throne. The Dysiniu thought that it must have not truly been silver, for by her understanding whispered suspicions that it would have burnt his half-dead flesh. Attending their dethroned king were undead of several types; largely skeletal for which Nairne was thankful. They did not have a stench nearly as bad as the rotting zombies or other fleshy dead, even to her sensetive nose. A few lights danced at the corners of her vision, proving the attendance of several willowwhisps. None of them spoke, unlike the trapped souls in the corridors; and for the moment Nairne could ignore them provided none began to beg her to free them. "You wished to see me?" Nairne asked slowly. Unlike previous times, she did not have to pretend very hard to be nervous before him. The thick carpet that had been set down was annoying her; making her constantly shift her paws in a manner that could have easily been mistaken for antsiness due to fear or respect, rather than what it really was. The liche merely stared at her a long moment before speaking, his skeletal fingers steepled as he did so. "Nairne," he said at last, "I believe we have discussed the matter of your form when you come into my presence." Nairne could have bit her tongue, but with hre fangs it would have left a fresh whole where she would rather not have one. Instead she gave him a fang-filled smiled which she kept through her transition to humanoid form. "As you wish, my liege." For the moment Terohon's paranoia was appeased and he settled back, palms resting against the arms of the throne. "Thank you, Nairne," he said, voice far too amiable so that the human-formed Dysiniu desired to snarl at him and mantle her ethereal wings. "Is there anything else you would will of me?" she asked instead, carefully keeping her irritation in check. "Only that which I summoned you for," replied Terohon with a wave of his hand. "As I am sure you know, Casandrias and Derekein returned recently with their two new bonds." The lich paused, dark eyes narrowing. "The Priestess suggested to me before she went that I, too, stand candidate. After much deliberation I have decided Star City would be best." |