[Continued from Shadowlands]
The dark lord smiles slightly. "I think the travellers will find themselves far too concerned with their quest to cause much harm to the shades that follow you. Simply warn your minions to remain out of reach."
Alhira dips his head in acknowledgement, still concerned, but partially reassured.
He gestures slightly. "By all means, tell your hoarde your commands come from me. If they question, you shall have proof."
From the shadows beside his throne, a slim, dusky dragonforme steps forth, her eyes glittering in the dim light. "Riallis, here, is one of my trusted. They will know her, and as long as she is at your side, your hoarde will know you speak true of my will."
With snake-like movements, Riallis comes to Alhira's side.
"Go swiftly, now Alhira. Your hoarde grows impatient."
"Very well. I shall lead you back." Figuring some obscure social etiquette precludes taking off inside the chamber, the raven-hearted drake begins to walk quickly towards the door. He looks behind him once to see that Riallis is still following him, and that nobody has snuck behind him with blades. The sound of claws clattering against tile, and its echos, is nearly enough to drive a normal being mad.
As he and his companion exit the shadowed hall, the woman who had guided him in confronts him.
"There is another matter the Lord would like you, personally, to attend to. It would mean removing valuable properties from the possession of the so-called 'Night Mistress'. Would you do this?"
Alhira responds after pondering for a few seconds. "Could that it wait a few minutessss? The orrrderrrssss that the Lorrrd hasss given are in dirrrrect contrrrasssst to the onesss I left my hoarrrde with. It would be prudent to rrrrelay the changesss to them beforrrre they act. Then thisss can be ssseen to."
The lady considers. "Of course. Riallis, you will be given the instructions. Speed to your flight, both of you."
Alhira quickly takes wing, and glides silently to his hoarde. Mentally, he plans the words he will use to relay these orders. He wonders how far, if at all, they will have moved on their own accord.
Every few minutes, he turns his head to check that Riallis is still following. A tiny bit of him, inwardly, wants to fly a little playfully, 'racing' his comrade, but he knows this is too important to play around with.
The dragoness moves through the air with purpose and grace. She sees him looking at her and nods, assuring him she is keeping up with him with no overdue effort. Through much of the flight, however, her mind seems distant.
Soon enough, the bridge where the shadows were left behind appears below them. As if on cue, one twisted shadowling zips up to greet him.
~ Greetingsss, commanderrrr. They have taken to flight. The hoarde follows them, to find a good tactical place to strike. They move towards the desmenes of the Terrible Raven of Beauty. We mussst stop them before they reach her! ~
Alhira responds with a snarl. He reaches out and grabs for one of the shadowling's appendages. Surprisingly for him, he doesn't thoughtspeak. "Brrrrring usss to them. NOW." The tone in his voice is to indicate that he could quite easily send the creature to eternity. His eyes flash, but that could just be the shifting light.
Riallis grumbles at the news. "In truth, she may be our greater ally," she murmurs, half aware of how blasphemous the thought might be considered by the Dark Lord.
"How ssso? Is ssshe to do the worrrrk my hoarrrde was orderrrred to?"
Riallis nods. "In a manner. The master wants them unimpeded. She very well might give them aid. We must be cautious, however. She often defies the master."
Alhira grumbles softly. He has nothing to add.
As he awaits the shadowling's leadership, he begins to thoughtbellow in a weak hope of getting a message to them. ~Hold back! By the darrrrrknesssss, hold back!~
From such a distance, it is impossible to tell if his orders have been obeyed.
The shadowling hunches its back, three pairs of oily wings fluttering madly to help it rise into the air. Most shadowlings are similar, their twisted wings barely able to keep them afloat individually, but fully capable of swift flight as a group. "Thisss way, my lord," it hisses in a simpering tone.
Riallis nods for Alhira to proceed her. She rises into the air a half a wing beat after him.
And so the shadow-drake rises into the perpetual night, looking down in case one of the foes was dropped or fell from wounds.
The shadow is quick to lead his lord over the swamp into the desmenes of Princess Marda. Alhira has heard some about this mysterious woman who holds the respect of the annoying Wanderers. Mostly that should she ever show sufficient weakness, the Lord of Demonshire would cast her down in hideous humiliation and torment.
He ponders this creature of near-myth, motivated by the rewards-- physical and political-- of figuring how to crack her.
As always, the small manor and tower are nearly surrounded by the wagons of the Wanderers. Even from the edge of the plain, Alhira can feel the power from their charms that keep the shadows at bay. The bright light in the tower shines in defiance against the twilight of Demonshire.
As he approaches, a soft hiss escapes his beak. The light makes his flesh tingle, like a splash of weak acid.
"You must have stopped them," Riallis observes as they land, indicating the cloud of confused and uncertain shadows.
"I am parrrtly ssssurrrprrrisssed... the blood-hungerrr of a ssshade issss difficult to ssstop."
"Yes, but the will of a powerful commander..." she purrs quietly, then glances at the gathered wagons and the manor.
"Isssss found in otherrrr men," Alhira returns, self-depreciatingly.
"They are with the Wanderers. The princess does not seem to have greeted them yet."
"Then bide the time." He gestures to the hoarde, ordering them to land. "Comrrades... dissssmisss yourrrselves to the nearrr-landsss. Watch and rrreporrrt. Do not act until furrtherrr orrrderrrssss."
The shades obediently settle, then disperse, dissappearing into the dark forest.
Riallis shakes her narrow head, her shape altering into that of a tall elven woman. "And what of us, Commander?"
"We wait asss well. The next move is theirrrs."
He ponders the appropriate response if that next move involves assaulting his Lord instead of the anticipated foe.
While the invading party enjoys the comforts of Princess Marda's dominion, their unseen guardians fail to enjoy such facilities.
A small shadow-drake, obviously too new to the Mistress's embrace to realise the faux pas he's committing, glides over to Alhira.
"Commanderrr... the thrrrrong hungerrrs. I fearrr mutiny if they arrre not ssssoon sssatisssfied."
Alhira ponders for a moment, then addresses his troops. ~Comrrrradesss... one in thrrreee sssshall sssearrrch forrr food. Brrring yourrr findings back.~ The beast has shrewdly concluded that one-third of his force should be able to supply the whole, without completely neutering their military capacities.
The young shade slips away, even as Alhira's aide and advisor moves closer to him, her glittering eyes on the rose-vine covered castle. "They cannot abide there long. They will exit." She glances at the shadow-drake commander. "Then we follow them. Ensure they are headed in the right direction. Our lord, please recall, wishes them not hindered but helped to depart his land. He has his uses for them."
She turns away, stalking from him without hearing any response. She finds an arm of their force moving too close to the gypsy encampment and drives them back fiercely.
[Continued in Shadowlands]
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