A crow that flew a very long distance, very quickly, until it landed in the tiny window of a dark tower, in a black kingdom. Its King merely watched as the crow hopped onto the floor again, twisted and contorted, crying until it took its normal shape of Valaira. Less than a minute of her walking slowly around the room, saying nothing—just surveying her surroundings—was enough to make Idimus uncomfortable, “Well? What news have you?”
Still, Valaira took her time, until she finally made her way to the King and crawled into his lap, draping over his throne as if she owned it. “First, you have to make me a promise, my Lord…despite it perhaps going against your wishes.”
The King tried to hide his snarl, but he bowed his head in agreement, “I will hear it.”
“I don’t want you to harm one hair on Elryia’s pretty little head, or anyone else’s. I want them all brought here, safe. When I am finished with her, and have removed what I want you may do with them what you wish.” She narrowed her eyes and pushed dangerously close to his face, a cold yet seductive whisper pressing passed her lips. “Do we have a deal?”
Idimus looked skeptical. “What do you plan on taking?”
Valaira’s sigh seemed to set her eyes rolling. “Nothing that will hinder you from torturing and killing her. Simply something…I need.” The King didn’t blink, still waiting for an answer. “Part of my offer is that you don’t ask questions; only trust me. You will get what you want from her when I’m done.”
He trusted no one, but this information—be it legit—was something he could not give up. Regretfully, he bowed his head in submission. “Understood.”
“Good boy.” Prompting a lashing gaze from the King. “My apologies, Liege. They are headed towards Sharia; about four days east of it in the Doren Valley. If you leave now and head straight south-east, you’ll cut them off at the Scar in close to a day.” She spoke of the landmark, a small patch of trees growing directly in the middle of the empty valley. “But hurry. If they make it to Sharia you may lose your chance. Even my magick will not pierce the barrier there.” She flicked her tongue across his lips as she crawled off, back to the floor and set her hands on her sides, “I’ll be waiting my Lord.” She turned back to tell him, raising her arms and engulfing herself in flames, taking on her lighter, more mobile state. Onto the window she hopped, disappearing into the sky almost as quickly as she had come.
The King sat for a moment, then yelled for one of his guards. He entered slowly, fearing that Idimus, as usual, was in a grave mood. But he was perhaps, in his best spirits, since this whole thing had started, “Bring me Kalinies, Drogan and twenty of our best guards. I have a task for them.”
“Yes Sire,” the guard rebuked, moving swiftly from the room and closing the door behind him.
Idimus thought at first of sending Gerin along with them, but he had disappointed him, and the General needed to be taught a lesson about what happens after failure. So he would rely on his other most trusted ally, and the dimwitted, yet dangerous bodyguard. The King smirked as he tried to picture the look on her face when she was caught, and delighted in the thoughts of torturing her, then finally ending her life.