Chapter 1: Dance of the Dreamers
Few of the new arrivals could remember exactly where they came from... and maybe it was for the best. All were Black Marks, of no great loss to their bastardized clans. Each was led into the circle and bound to the next by long Hangingwood chains, woven by the priests of Palde M’ka for their rituals. Kiul stood in the center of the circle, resplendent in her robes of black and gray. How long had it been since the last dance? She could not remember the exact time... but Nithalndl Linok called her here nonetheless. She was his thrall, and so she went through with it. In her heart Kiul felt remorse, and even a vague sense of pity for those that she forced to Dance, but she had as much control as one locked inside a burning house: she was in the game for the long haul, better or worse.
“You serve a noble purpose... you are here to pay penance for your unclean blood. Palde M’ka is unpleased with those who are not of her own blood... and she calls for release of their filth from her lands.” at this Kiul motioned to her priests, and they started their dance. Widdershins around the bound ones, and they sang the chants of Atonement. Kiul raised her hands to the heavens, and the shadows started to dance the clockwise. The slaves started to dance and jerk, trying to get away from the fate that awaited them. With each jerk they tightened the bindings, and with each shriek the wind wailed, seeming to laugh at the death of the destined. And so, the Great Dance began.
Through the links of Hangingwood coils shot great lines of silver fire, burning the arms and legs through the bound. As they flailed their limbs yearning to put out their scorched flesh, the bonds wrapped tighter, cutting into their charred skins and spilling a crimson rain blood on the ground. The youngest of them all, a Poin of only four, fell to her knees and was cut away from the rest of the group, her arms remaining as a reminder of the fact that stopping the dance would be worst than staying in the circle. Each danced because they wished to live; but the mind is cruel because it will always trick the living into what it wishes them to believe.
The ground sucked eagerly at the feet of the dancers, as they leapt up in their agony and bounded in their circular path. As the earth took in their pain, its soil took on the color of the dark skies around them. The air filled with fear and electricity as the dancers lumbered through their motions, hoping for respite. Each pass caused blisters and sores to tear apart, bleeding their bodies more. Around them their comrades fell, cut apart from the circle with their arms remaining. Scourges struck at their purgatoried forms, rending flesh whenever they touched. The next fell; then the next leaped towards the center. A female, the Poin had no chance: her body collapsed in on itself as she turned to dust, caught in the vortex surrounding the origin of it all, Kiul. More fell; twenty remained, then fifteen. Fourteen (and the girl died reaching to her mother)... thirteen (the old man slit his own throat; we must remember to remove their nails before the next ritual). At twelve, the second youngest of all fell to his knees. A young boy, his head slammed into a stone that had been uncovered by the spray of vitae. As his skull crushed beneath the dancers’ feet, Kiul raised her head and screamed in ecstatic laugher; the end of the ritual comes.
“By my life I pledge these sacrifices to Palde M’ka... our matron in this world and beyond!” Kiul cried as she raised a fist to the charged air around her. With her touch the air thickened, and the remaining dancers fell into the blood-choked mud. Priests came to unwind the corpse’s arms, but Kiul would not let them touch the defiled bodies. All of the priests feared to do so; leaving bodies to be feasted upon by the animals was against the ethos of their priesthood. Kiul quickly solved the problem; there was no true essence here... Poin were not these festering corpses. They had lost their souls when they were branded Neschval, clanless ones. The Black Marks; their only true purpose was to serve those who had life. They had no truth, no intelligence; they were cattle. They accepted her choice and marched to the shadows, preparing to depart into the darkness to the Citadel.
Reflection is one of the first lessons that the priests of Palde M’ka learn. Reflection is an enemy to the solid, the flesh, and truth; that which cannot cast its shadow is lost to the abyss to which they all marched every day, and Kiul knew this was the truth of life. How long had it been since she had seen her own face? Years of course; the Nithia had mades its circle through the sky many times since she had stood with her father in the hall of the Lightless Eye? When had she looked into the mirror and gained her scar that marked her as a true follower of the Lady? A Cycle? Two? Her skin had turned to ash through the years... her suitors had been denied at the gates of her father’s house long ago. Her Maiden took only the true, and she remained true... she was blessed by a child when she had been made a Priest; given back what was her own to lose or keep. The path of the Traveler was long, and Kiul wished it to end. Pain seeped into her frame when she performed her rituals, but she had been told she had not aged. Was it his doing? Who knew... mayhap it was.
She looked into the dust, and around her. The great place had been here before the Old Ones had left; there were stories of them amongst the priests of the Unnamed who lived amongst the dead protecting the hall of Guin. What were their purpose? Why had they been placed amongst the lands of the ancient sphere? Were they gateways? Locks which prevented the release of something? Kiul did not question; Nithalndl had told her that he needed them in his control. If she had to spill her own blood she would give him whatever was in her power to give. Nithalndl had given her a child; a boy who had been her first of two. That boy had never gained his name; he had disappeared into the darkness when Kiul had taken him to her father’s ancient land. Maybe it was for the best; Palde took what she desired, and Kiul gave what Nithalndl wanted; her life was to give.
As she stood in the circle, long after her priestess entourage had left, she looked into the pool of blood at her feet. In it, the dust moved, and the wind whirled about. The great red pond rose into the air, a perfect vital sphere. Within the perfection, the grit of the earth flowed into one area, slowly forming into a handsome face of a young man. A great gray veil covered his eyes, which Kiul knew would be vacuous pools of pure black riffled with bands of ruby and ocher. She had seen this visage through her dreams; the face of Nithalndl Linok, whom she had fallen in love with. She was enthralled by his stark contrast, his almost indistinct features when compared to her own sharp contrasts. The man in the bloody circle
“You have done well, my maiden. The pain shall fill my body tonight; but you must leave. I have sent one of my people to retrieve the bodies... move swiftly Kiul.” the face then seemed to be sucked into the ground, and the mud turned to the hard, packed soil that was on the blasted heath when the dance began. A single golden leaf rose from the ground, covered in elaborate swirling script. As she bowed to pick the plant of inexorable beauty, Kiul looked about. In the wind a bitter chill rose, and howling came from the East in whispering tones. She quickly grasped the object of her desire and rose.
“Yes, Nithalndl Linok... I will do as you wish.” Kiul whispered into the wind as she stepped into the shade of a great willow. With one swift motion of her hand the shadow wrapped around her. Her form distorted, oily black extensions of the shadows reached out to her body. In an instant, the darkness folded in half, and the Head Priestess of Palde M’ka of the Ostarian Provinces had been swept into the abyss.
Kiul stood in the great hall of Palde M’ka d’Ost, the Western palace of the Goddess of the Shadows. As she appeared she was greeted by her guard, a great beast known only as Yoh amongst the Taln, and by no name amongst those who lived in the Citadel. Yoh, a tall, almost tiger-like creature, his great height dwarfed the lithe figure of his owner. Jet black fur covered Yoh’s back, and across his hip he wore the scabbard of a great sword he was given by his mistress. Each of his hands was covered in the same fur, as were his feet. The blade stood in stark contrast, a silvery beacon in the night that was his hair. Scars weaved across his torso, wounds from his puphood and many battles in the outlands with his mistress and her House.
“It is good you have returned mistress; the priests were...” Yoh was cut off as Kiul pulled off her large priestess miter and started towards her corridors. Kiul’s movements were so swift in the darkness that Yoh was always amazed; she walked on the walls, through the walls, and up the walls through what the Taln referred to as the Shadow speech. Kiul was said to be able to talk to the very shadows, make light dark and fly through the night on wings of nocturnal lace. Though he knew few of the slaves ever saw the inside of the priest’s quarters as he did, Yoh knew that few actually believed those stories; the priests of Palde M’ka were blessed with an ability to change the shadows to suit their whim, but shadows did not speak. Yoh had always wished to learn the ways of Palde M’ka, but was not born of her house and thus was not permitted to see the rituals of the house. Yoh swiftly ran towards the high priestess’s quarters, where he had to knock to be allowed in.
A small creature hidden behind the door seemed to swing the great ironwood portal open, but Yoh knew it was just another of his mistress’s charms to control shadows. Kiul sat in a large wingback chair, with a glass of wine in her left hand and dressed in the tunic of a workman. Her hair was down, but she looked even more dangerous in this room, like a widower’s snake in their bony lure traps. She motioned for Yoh to sit down, as another shadow moved to her servant with a glass of heavily spiced rum. As Yoh sat down, he saw his mistress in a way he hadn’t seen in all of his service to her: Kiul was smiling at him.
“Has the caravan from Primdeka arrived yet Yoh?” Kiul asked between sips of her drink. Yoh looked at her as if he had never seen this woman; she spoke to him directly and spoke his name. Never had Yoh been called by his Taln name when dealing with the Poinish priests and workers of the citadel. Few Taln had the privilege of being a guard to the high priests of any order, much less such a great leader as the Mistress, Yoh thought. If she wished to call me by my true name, so be it.
“Yes Mistress... the caravan had difficulties passing through the Forest of Motladan, but they arrived in last night between watches.” Yoh had always enjoyed watching the caravans come in with all of their wares, but in the last years fewer and fewer ventured to the Western palace, and Kiul refused many of the remaining caravans entrance into her house. Some of the kitchen Poin and Taln had spoken of great changes in power, and their food burning when before it would have been fine. Yoh refused to believe such obvious falsities; he knew that they were just trying to cover themselves from the wrath of their governess, a stout shadow-worker who enjoyed scaring the superstitious of the slaves with her incantations and illusions.
“Excellent. I have been waiting for the cargo from this voyage to Primdeka. Do you know if they had trouble finding the city?” Kiul asked this last question after finishing her wine, then poured another glass from the bottle to the left of her chair. The wine was made from fruits that grew in a remote pass near the Citadel, and had a flavor that warmed the far reaches of the body. Though it was incredibly strong, Kiul did not care tonight; there was no immediate danger and her day tomorrow was uneventful. Besides: who cares whether she had a little too much for once? She had performed difficult work over the last few weeks, and its culmination had been the actions of this night.
“No... the city has not moved in years Mistress. The caravan carried a few of our priests with it, and they walked into the Temple of the Elders and guided the caravan from that point.” Primdeka was a city of many secrets, but its most known was that of the Jion. Great stonework creatures, the Jion protect Primdeka from invasion or any other attack by moving it to another province. However, as the city was completely neutral, it made sense to Yoh that no great movements had occurred in the city for quite some time. The Temple of the Elders.... no one who lived knew its secret. Its alabaster statuary surrounded a great reflecting pool, which filled with moonlight in the night. Beauty was its function now, with most of the Gods going unremembered by the people of the city.
“We did send the priests to d’Sar correct? I wish to speak to my brother on matters that are occurring amongst the Black Marks... terrible people. You would think that those who have lost their clan would not try to attack cities but they massacred Gyin only two months ago.” Kiul looked introspective to Yoh as she said this. Gyin was the home of Kiul’s only son, a child who had been born of a king of the Eastern Kingdoms. The boy was taken to Gyin to learn shadow-craft so he would be able to join his mother as a priest of Palde M’ka, but the boy died defending his classmates with a fierce shadow-work. lion. There was said to be nothing left of any of the children or any of the other inhabitants... just charred piles of ash. Kiul almost looked at the brink of tears, but composed herself and looked to Yoh for an answer to her question.
“The priests have sent back word that they will remain at d’Sar for a fortnight, but your brother will be coming to the palace by the next Maiden Moon Mistress.” Yoh stood up at this, stretched his long clawed hands, and went across the room. Yoh then curled up in the corner, laid his sword near his arm, and fell to a guarded rest. Kiul could command him to sleep but almost never did, and the rest he got in this reverie was great enough to keep him healthy and energetic. A Taln was like any other tool
Kiul looked into a mirror on the wall. In her eyes she could see why Yoh had been treating her oddly; had he been afraid that something would happen? Of course not... Taln are idiotic creatures at best... there is nothing to worry about. Though, in all of the time that she had known this servant, Yoh had always been much quicker than the others had... he understood complicated ideology well... but this is beyond any Taln. Don’t worry about the beast... he will forget all that happened or what he think happened... its their way. There would always remain a nagging fear that the truth was much different than the voice of reason would tell her... but there was always something to learn in life.
Kiul went across the room, sat down on the edge of her pallet, and proceeded to massage her scalp. She wrapped herself in a heavy fur blanket and looked through out of the great window of her quarters. Insomnia was a force she had come to live with, just as the guilt of sending her son to his death in the city of Gyin. Sleepless nights and pain of loss were little things compared to the other pains she had suffered in her life; oh, there were few things that could compare to loss of her son, but she had seen what her groom would do to her. There were many things Nithalndl would do for her; however, she feared not being able to serve him in the capacity he wished and what he would do. Sleepless nights were the least of her worries.
Few of the new arrivals could remember exactly where they came from... and maybe it was for the best. All were Black Marks, of no great loss to their bastardized clans. Each was led into the circle and bound to the next by long Hangingwood chains, woven by the priests of Palde M’ka for their rituals. Kiul stood in the center of the circle, resplendent in her robes of black and gray. How long had it been since the last dance? She could not remember the exact time... but Nithalndl Linok called her here nonetheless. She was his thrall, and so she went through with it. In her heart Kiul felt remorse, and even a vague sense of pity for those that she forced to Dance, but she had as much control as one locked inside a burning house: she was in the game for the long haul, better or worse.
“You serve a noble purpose... you are here to pay penance for your unclean blood. Palde M’ka is unpleased with those who are not of her own blood... and she calls for release of their filth from her lands.” at this Kiul motioned to her priests, and they started their dance. Widdershins around the bound ones, and they sang the chants of Atonement. Kiul raised her hands to the heavens, and the shadows started to dance the clockwise. The slaves started to dance and jerk, trying to get away from the fate that awaited them. With each jerk they tightened the bindings, and with each shriek the wind wailed, seeming to laugh at the death of the destined. And so, the Great Dance began.
Through the links of Hangingwood coils shot great lines of silver fire, burning the arms and legs through the bound. As they flailed their limbs yearning to put out their scorched flesh, the bonds wrapped tighter, cutting into their charred skins and spilling a crimson rain blood on the ground. The youngest of them all, a Poin of only four, fell to her knees and was cut away from the rest of the group, her arms remaining as a reminder of the fact that stopping the dance would be worst than staying in the circle. Each danced because they wished to live; but the mind is cruel because it will always trick the living into what it wishes them to believe.
The ground sucked eagerly at the feet of the dancers, as they leapt up in their agony and bounded in their circular path. As the earth took in their pain, its soil took on the color of the dark skies around them. The air filled with fear and electricity as the dancers lumbered through their motions, hoping for respite. Each pass caused blisters and sores to tear apart, bleeding their bodies more. Around them their comrades fell, cut apart from the circle with their arms remaining. Scourges struck at their purgatoried forms, rending flesh whenever they touched. The next fell; then the next leaped towards the center. A female, the Poin had no chance: her body collapsed in on itself as she turned to dust, caught in the vortex surrounding the origin of it all, Kiul. More fell; twenty remained, then fifteen. Fourteen (and the girl died reaching to her mother)... thirteen (the old man slit his own throat; we must remember to remove their nails before the next ritual). At twelve, the second youngest of all fell to his knees. A young boy, his head slammed into a stone that had been uncovered by the spray of vitae. As his skull crushed beneath the dancers’ feet, Kiul raised her head and screamed in ecstatic laugher; the end of the ritual comes.
“By my life I pledge these sacrifices to Palde M’ka... our matron in this world and beyond!” Kiul cried as she raised a fist to the charged air around her. With her touch the air thickened, and the remaining dancers fell into the blood-choked mud. Priests came to unwind the corpse’s arms, but Kiul would not let them touch the defiled bodies. All of the priests feared to do so; leaving bodies to be feasted upon by the animals was against the ethos of their priesthood. Kiul quickly solved the problem; there was no true essence here... Poin were not these festering corpses. They had lost their souls when they were branded Neschval, clanless ones. The Black Marks; their only true purpose was to serve those who had life. They had no truth, no intelligence; they were cattle. They accepted her choice and marched to the shadows, preparing to depart into the darkness to the Citadel.
Reflection is one of the first lessons that the priests of Palde M’ka learn. Reflection is an enemy to the solid, the flesh, and truth; that which cannot cast its shadow is lost to the abyss to which they all marched every day, and Kiul knew this was the truth of life. How long had it been since she had seen her own face? Years of course; the Nithia had mades its circle through the sky many times since she had stood with her father in the hall of the Lightless Eye? When had she looked into the mirror and gained her scar that marked her as a true follower of the Lady? A Cycle? Two? Her skin had turned to ash through the years... her suitors had been denied at the gates of her father’s house long ago. Her Maiden took only the true, and she remained true... she was blessed by a child when she had been made a Priest; given back what was her own to lose or keep. The path of the Traveler was long, and Kiul wished it to end. Pain seeped into her frame when she performed her rituals, but she had been told she had not aged. Was it his doing? Who knew... mayhap it was.
She looked into the dust, and around her. The great place had been here before the Old Ones had left; there were stories of them amongst the priests of the Unnamed who lived amongst the dead protecting the hall of Guin. What were their purpose? Why had they been placed amongst the lands of the ancient sphere? Were they gateways? Locks which prevented the release of something? Kiul did not question; Nithalndl had told her that he needed them in his control. If she had to spill her own blood she would give him whatever was in her power to give. Nithalndl had given her a child; a boy who had been her first of two. That boy had never gained his name; he had disappeared into the darkness when Kiul had taken him to her father’s ancient land. Maybe it was for the best; Palde took what she desired, and Kiul gave what Nithalndl wanted; her life was to give.
As she stood in the circle, long after her priestess entourage had left, she looked into the pool of blood at her feet. In it, the dust moved, and the wind whirled about. The great red pond rose into the air, a perfect vital sphere. Within the perfection, the grit of the earth flowed into one area, slowly forming into a handsome face of a young man. A great gray veil covered his eyes, which Kiul knew would be vacuous pools of pure black riffled with bands of ruby and ocher. She had seen this visage through her dreams; the face of Nithalndl Linok, whom she had fallen in love with. She was enthralled by his stark contrast, his almost indistinct features when compared to her own sharp contrasts. The man in the bloody circle
“You have done well, my maiden. The pain shall fill my body tonight; but you must leave. I have sent one of my people to retrieve the bodies... move swiftly Kiul.” the face then seemed to be sucked into the ground, and the mud turned to the hard, packed soil that was on the blasted heath when the dance began. A single golden leaf rose from the ground, covered in elaborate swirling script. As she bowed to pick the plant of inexorable beauty, Kiul looked about. In the wind a bitter chill rose, and howling came from the East in whispering tones. She quickly grasped the object of her desire and rose.
“Yes, Nithalndl Linok... I will do as you wish.” Kiul whispered into the wind as she stepped into the shade of a great willow. With one swift motion of her hand the shadow wrapped around her. Her form distorted, oily black extensions of the shadows reached out to her body. In an instant, the darkness folded in half, and the Head Priestess of Palde M’ka of the Ostarian Provinces had been swept into the abyss.
Kiul stood in the great hall of Palde M’ka d’Ost, the Western palace of the Goddess of the Shadows. As she appeared she was greeted by her guard, a great beast known only as Yoh amongst the Taln, and by no name amongst those who lived in the Citadel. Yoh, a tall, almost tiger-like creature, his great height dwarfed the lithe figure of his owner. Jet black fur covered Yoh’s back, and across his hip he wore the scabbard of a great sword he was given by his mistress. Each of his hands was covered in the same fur, as were his feet. The blade stood in stark contrast, a silvery beacon in the night that was his hair. Scars weaved across his torso, wounds from his puphood and many battles in the outlands with his mistress and her House.
“It is good you have returned mistress; the priests were...” Yoh was cut off as Kiul pulled off her large priestess miter and started towards her corridors. Kiul’s movements were so swift in the darkness that Yoh was always amazed; she walked on the walls, through the walls, and up the walls through what the Taln referred to as the Shadow speech. Kiul was said to be able to talk to the very shadows, make light dark and fly through the night on wings of nocturnal lace. Though he knew few of the slaves ever saw the inside of the priest’s quarters as he did, Yoh knew that few actually believed those stories; the priests of Palde M’ka were blessed with an ability to change the shadows to suit their whim, but shadows did not speak. Yoh had always wished to learn the ways of Palde M’ka, but was not born of her house and thus was not permitted to see the rituals of the house. Yoh swiftly ran towards the high priestess’s quarters, where he had to knock to be allowed in.
A small creature hidden behind the door seemed to swing the great ironwood portal open, but Yoh knew it was just another of his mistress’s charms to control shadows. Kiul sat in a large wingback chair, with a glass of wine in her left hand and dressed in the tunic of a workman. Her hair was down, but she looked even more dangerous in this room, like a widower’s snake in their bony lure traps. She motioned for Yoh to sit down, as another shadow moved to her servant with a glass of heavily spiced rum. As Yoh sat down, he saw his mistress in a way he hadn’t seen in all of his service to her: Kiul was smiling at him.
“Has the caravan from Primdeka arrived yet Yoh?” Kiul asked between sips of her drink. Yoh looked at her as if he had never seen this woman; she spoke to him directly and spoke his name. Never had Yoh been called by his Taln name when dealing with the Poinish priests and workers of the citadel. Few Taln had the privilege of being a guard to the high priests of any order, much less such a great leader as the Mistress, Yoh thought. If she wished to call me by my true name, so be it.
“Yes Mistress... the caravan had difficulties passing through the Forest of Motladan, but they arrived in last night between watches.” Yoh had always enjoyed watching the caravans come in with all of their wares, but in the last years fewer and fewer ventured to the Western palace, and Kiul refused many of the remaining caravans entrance into her house. Some of the kitchen Poin and Taln had spoken of great changes in power, and their food burning when before it would have been fine. Yoh refused to believe such obvious falsities; he knew that they were just trying to cover themselves from the wrath of their governess, a stout shadow-worker who enjoyed scaring the superstitious of the slaves with her incantations and illusions.
“Excellent. I have been waiting for the cargo from this voyage to Primdeka. Do you know if they had trouble finding the city?” Kiul asked this last question after finishing her wine, then poured another glass from the bottle to the left of her chair. The wine was made from fruits that grew in a remote pass near the Citadel, and had a flavor that warmed the far reaches of the body. Though it was incredibly strong, Kiul did not care tonight; there was no immediate danger and her day tomorrow was uneventful. Besides: who cares whether she had a little too much for once? She had performed difficult work over the last few weeks, and its culmination had been the actions of this night.
“No... the city has not moved in years Mistress. The caravan carried a few of our priests with it, and they walked into the Temple of the Elders and guided the caravan from that point.” Primdeka was a city of many secrets, but its most known was that of the Jion. Great stonework creatures, the Jion protect Primdeka from invasion or any other attack by moving it to another province. However, as the city was completely neutral, it made sense to Yoh that no great movements had occurred in the city for quite some time. The Temple of the Elders.... no one who lived knew its secret. Its alabaster statuary surrounded a great reflecting pool, which filled with moonlight in the night. Beauty was its function now, with most of the Gods going unremembered by the people of the city.
“We did send the priests to d’Sar correct? I wish to speak to my brother on matters that are occurring amongst the Black Marks... terrible people. You would think that those who have lost their clan would not try to attack cities but they massacred Gyin only two months ago.” Kiul looked introspective to Yoh as she said this. Gyin was the home of Kiul’s only son, a child who had been born of a king of the Eastern Kingdoms. The boy was taken to Gyin to learn shadow-craft so he would be able to join his mother as a priest of Palde M’ka, but the boy died defending his classmates with a fierce shadow-work. lion. There was said to be nothing left of any of the children or any of the other inhabitants... just charred piles of ash. Kiul almost looked at the brink of tears, but composed herself and looked to Yoh for an answer to her question.
“The priests have sent back word that they will remain at d’Sar for a fortnight, but your brother will be coming to the palace by the next Maiden Moon Mistress.” Yoh stood up at this, stretched his long clawed hands, and went across the room. Yoh then curled up in the corner, laid his sword near his arm, and fell to a guarded rest. Kiul could command him to sleep but almost never did, and the rest he got in this reverie was great enough to keep him healthy and energetic. A Taln was like any other tool
Kiul looked into a mirror on the wall. In her eyes she could see why Yoh had been treating her oddly; had he been afraid that something would happen? Of course not... Taln are idiotic creatures at best... there is nothing to worry about. Though, in all of the time that she had known this servant, Yoh had always been much quicker than the others had... he understood complicated ideology well... but this is beyond any Taln. Don’t worry about the beast... he will forget all that happened or what he think happened... its their way. There would always remain a nagging fear that the truth was much different than the voice of reason would tell her... but there was always something to learn in life.
Kiul went across the room, sat down on the edge of her pallet, and proceeded to massage her scalp. She wrapped herself in a heavy fur blanket and looked through out of the great window of her quarters. Insomnia was a force she had come to live with, just as the guilt of sending her son to his death in the city of Gyin. Sleepless nights and pain of loss were little things compared to the other pains she had suffered in her life; oh, there were few things that could compare to loss of her son, but she had seen what her groom would do to her. There were many things Nithalndl would do for her; however, she feared not being able to serve him in the capacity he wished and what he would do. Sleepless nights were the least of her worries.
