*
A single wide bridge led from each of the five minor palaces to the Palace of Fengaard. As Karmalaine strode across he cursed the stupidity of Arbiter Praxos. Yes the arbiters were supposed to elevate matters of importance, but a waking dreamer and a talented jackal riding a sorrow hawk stealing him away from the Mercurial Chambers? This was not a matter of import, it was a matter of life and death which should have been brought to the King immediately.
Clowen followed him and in front and behind were Karmalaine’s honour guard of silver claws which followed him whenever he left the Thorn Tower. There were a half dozen at the moment, this number would increase if he left the Pillar of Royalty and ventured into the city proper. At the head of the bridge were a set of doors high enough to admit a giant, a stooped giant but a giant nonetheless. They were over a hundred feet tall and Karmalaine knew that a team of smiling ogres worked in the housing beneath the door to draw the pulley system which would open the doors.
Given their lot in this dream-life, Karmalaine doubted the ogres were smiling any more. Such was the lot of a people who had given themselves to slavery and servitude. Arrayed before the gate were ten more silver claws.
“Captain Vaclav, I need to see my father urgently”, said the Prince.
The silver claw by the name of Vaclav bowed before the heir. When bowed the silver claw was almost a match in height for the Prince; most silver claws stood at about nine feet tall. Not an inch of skin could be seen beneath their armour, which was gun-metal grey except for the distinctive silver gauntlets with razor sharp talons they wore. No face could be seen beneath their visors, only the eyes which were no more than faint red glowing balls. Despite their hulking frames they were nimble agile beings and had guarded the descendants of Fenn for many centuries.
“Your will takes precedence, My Prince”, was all he said in response. Vaclav’s voice was a quiet shadowy thing that struggled to make its way out of the thick faceplate of his helm. He walked over to the right hand side of the doors and pulled on a rope. From somewhere below Karmalaine heard bells ringing.
The image of a raven was emblazoned across the massive wooden doors which split as the ogres below started to pull. As soon as the gap was wide enough to admit him Karmalaine strode through with Clowen and the honour guard in tow.
The Palace of Fenngaard was constructed in a very different manner to the minor palaces. Whilst they were a complex mishmash of towers, corridors, halls and levels, Fenngaard was very simple. It consisted primarily of a single dome which contained the Hall of Providence.
Within this hall was situated the Nested Throne built from twigs taken from the nests of ravens. The throne had been made into the shape of a raven in a similar fashion to Karmalaine’s own seat of power, but was many times the size of his. The raven made of millions of twigs looked fierce indeed.
It was a gift to the first Fenn from the Ravenlords of old and part of the reason why Fenn took the raven as the symbol of his house, supplanting his original sigil of the lotus.
The Hall of Providence was as wide as it was tall. At nearly a league across it would take some minutes to walk its breadth in full. All the other rooms were built into the actual walls of the Palace which is what gave such space to the hall. The royal apartments and a thousand other rooms given over to the massive bureaucracy governing the kingdom were built into the walls surrounding the Hall of Providence. The throne itself was situated in the centre of the dome, directly beneath a single opening which allowed in a pillar of light, illuminating the throne during the daylight hours.
The Hall of Providence was always busy but never seemed crowded due to its dimensions. As Karmalaine strode across the blue carpeted floor he saw that hundreds of people were in the hall, talking in small groups or hurrying here and there conducting urgent business of government. Prince Karmalaine recognised a number of people as he walked, the Magister Elementis who controlled the weather patterns of Avalen, the Arachnid King, master of the spiders of Entlewood and Lemer Starys, Chief of the Octaris who guarded the Dreamstone Wall.
There were many more he did not recognise but this did not surprise him. Fenn was often called the infinite city, no one could quantify how many dreams now resided on the nineteen pillars but it was enough to require an army of officials to maintain order.
Around the Nested Throne was a ring of one hundred silver claws. Beyond them was the King, his mousekarl and whoever was receiving an audience at the time. No one was being treated by the time Karmalaine reached the ring of silver steel around his father, however. He knew that the silver claws were high level telepaths and it was likely that Vaclav had alerted his brother captains to the approach of the Prince.
The silver claws parted to allow him entry and Clowen’s scythe was confiscated again. Karmalaine‘s own retinue of bodyguards stayed outside of the circle.
The King was as imposing as the chair he sat on but Fenn Corul Geddon looked old, as Karmalaine imagined he would if and when he reached his eighth century. His hair and complexion were similar to his sons’, but there the similarities ended. Where Karmalaine was lean to the point of being slender his father was a huge dream, tall and broad. His eyes were the colour of stone and his face seemed locked in a permanently stern mask. Despite his size, Karmalaine knew that his father did not carry an ounce of fat. His strength was prodigious, as it needed to be to wield the hammer of Fenn, the symbol of their house’s power.
To some he was known as Granite Hand, such was the strength in the huge gnarled fingers which now rested on the arms of the Nested Throne.
“My son”, he spoke, his voice like distant thunder, “a welcome surprise.”
“Father”, said Prince Karmalaine dropping to one knee and staring at the floor. Clowen followed suit.
“Rise”, spoke his King.
Karmalaine stood and looked into the flinty gaze. “My father, I come with grave tidings.”
“Grave indeed”, responded the King, “a great weight you bring into my hall, I see it in your eyes Karmalaine, eldest son of mine. Come tell your father why the business of the realm has been halted this day?”
Karmalaine had never been good at assessing his father’s mood. Truth be told, there was no one in Avalen who could accurately gauge what Fenn Corul Geddon was thinking at any one time. He looked as stern and foreboding when he was dispensing justice as he did when he was giving gifts to his kindred.
Only Karmalaine’s mother, Queen Eldella, seemed to be able to judge the King’s mood with any accuracy and she was far away beyond the city, secluded in the Lyrilia where she'd been for some years now.
“I have with me a tallow bear who goes by the name of Clowen. He is a resident guardian at Mercurial-Pelegon. It is from his mouth that I have been told of a grave threat to your majesty and all we hold dear.” Karmalaine turned to Clowen and said, “Tell it as you told me.”
“Your majesty”, said Clowen, bowing low, “less than a full turning of the light ago one of the dreamers in our chamber woke up and left his pedestal. We gave chase but were thwarted by a talented jackal riding one of the sorrow hawks. He attacked us and then carried the dreamer off with him.”
Almost immediately the King turned to Hidriss the mousekarl at his side and said, “Send for Mortiune at once.” Then he turned back to Clowen: “Why has it taken so long for word of this to reach me?”
Even with his father’s masked emotional state Karmalaine could sense the anger. He stepped forward and said, “Clowen acted in accordance with the guidelines set down for such an incident. The delay was caused by the slow-witted actions of one of our Arbiters who saw it fit to refer the matter to me instead of bringing it before you, my father. The arbiter in question has been dealt with.”
That seemed to placate his father slightly whose manner turned from anger to clouded contemplation. He addressed Clowen again, “By chance tallow bear, did you deign the identity of the jackal?”
“No, My King, I am unfamiliar with their hierarchy and
could not name the creature.”
The King mused on that before calling out to his guard, “Vulthian!”
One of the silver claws standing around the throne turned, walked forward and knelt before the King. Karmalaine was not fond of Vulthian Kel-Parr, commander of the silver claws and personal protector of his father. He knew that by necessity the silver claws were merciless, suspicious and highly disciplined creatures but their captain took such attributes to the extreme. Karmalaine had often sensed that beyond Vulthian‘s cold façade was a being capable of cruel actions, which he would justify in the name of the king he served.
“My King”, intoned Vulthian in a voice that would chill even the most hardened nightmare.
“I want you to mobilise the entirety of the silver claw legion. Station them at every entry and exit to the city, including the sky-ports, as well as roaming patrols covering every inch of the lower city. Tell them that any talented jackal within the city is to be arrested and confined to the Howling Cavern.”
“Yes, My King”, said Vulthian immediately, rising to his feet and departing the steel circle to carry out his orders. Karmalaine was shocked at the swiftness with which the situation was escalating.
“Father.”
“Yes my son?” responded Fenn Corul Geddon, turning his grey eyes on Karmalaine.
“I agree that this is a dire situation, but might not such actions prompt panic and fear? There are many talented jackals in the city who show nothing but loyalty and carry out their lives without hostility to the crown.”
The stone eyes bored long and hard into the sky blue of Karmalaine’s own gaze before the King responded, “My son, a dog is a dog and they are all of one pack. One day you will be king, by which time you will have grown wisdom on top of the courage and intellect you already wield, but know this: you are too young to recall the events of my life which gave me such wisdom. I have been bitten by the hound before. I will not be so injured a second time.”
Prince Karmalaine was about to object but thought better of it. Not least because it was unwise to question his father’s will, but also because he was not completely sure of his own arguments. The Prince was a keen student of history, he was well aware that the talented jackals had supported the Arma Rebellion, indeed they had been an integral part of it. And it had only been a century since the war against Saal when the jackals had once again taken the opposing side against the Palace of Fenngaard. Despite his reservations he would accede to his father’s experience on this matter.
It was not long until Hidriss returned with Mortiune, a Sentinel. If the silver claws were the King’s hand of might and physical power then the Sentinels were the hand of knowledge and wisdom. They were the keepers of ancient lore, the bookkeepers charged with the stewardship of the Lyng Library housed in the Palace of Night. What the Sentinels did not know could be ruled out as irrelevant.
Mortiune was a stooped humanoid, an old man, grey and pale and reeking of mortality. It was rumoured the he was a memory dream, a recollection of a true mortal who had lived at some point on the other side.
Despite the elderly gait and the short staff he used Mortiune was afforded great respect due to his ability to dream weave. It was considered a great honour to be able to dream weave, to manipulate the fabric of Avalen by will alone. It was said that the ability came easily to memory dreams since the mortal figures of which they were echoes would have dreamt themselves once upon a time.
Mortiune made as if to drop to one knee but King Corul dismissed the gesture with a wave of his hand: “You do not need to kneel Sentinel. We do not have the time it would take you to rise.” Mortiune had the good grace to laugh at that.
“How may I serve My King?” croaked the old man.
“A dreamer has left his pedestal and been stolen away by the talented jackals. I need you to go with this tallow bear to Mercurial-Pelegon, deign the identity of the dreamer, learn his history and if possible discern his future. Why this one, and why now?”
“It will be as you say, My King.”
“You will leave at once. The Lonely Ghost will carry you.” With that Mortiune and Clowen left the grand hall.
Prince Karmalaine looked up at the ceiling of the dome; the palace was so large that small clouds oft formed within it. There were several now, and the Prince could see the birds which nested at the top of the dome were flying to and fro between them. The ravens were restless, for fate moved against them.