He walked with nervous purpose, with anxiety and fear lingering in his eyes and threatening to spill out with every shaky step. His long, flowing robes and the air of grandeur in the halls that surrounded him seemed betrayed by the petty and fidgety way in which he stormed around, fists clenched at his sides, eyes locked downward. All around him the only the light came from the flickering of weak torches that lined the dark blocky walls, and, though there were shadowy figures moving just out of eyesight, most seemed to avoid him; they all kept their voices down to low husky whispers.

“I can hear you out there!” the man finally shouted, swooping his cloak out of the way and raising his hand up to push some of the scruffy brown hair that framed his head out of his eyes. “Whatever you have to say… make it quick! Speak!” His free hand remained in a fist at his side and his voice shook a little while he spoke.

“M-my lord,” a voice came squeaking from around the corner, and finally, a short chubby man stumbled forward and fell to one knee. His brown robes were dark and dirty and frayed at the edges. “We have — we have another message from the Empress, my lord,” he said.

“… so deliver it,” the man before him — evidently, his ‘lord,’ though the young-looking man’s small stature and the squeamish way he held himself didn’t quite befit the title. “Hurry, now. What did she have to say?”

“Your brother is still at her court, sir,” the fat man said, taking a few steps backwards. He tried to move subtly but he was unable and he bumped right against the wall, eyes going wide.

The other man whooshed his cloak in a wide arc as he spun on his heel dramatically and stormed off in the hall, back in the direction he had come from. He eventually came upon two enormous well-worn stone doors and forced them open with surprising ease. Beyond the doors was a wide, room with a tall ceiling. The torches on the walls did little to illuminate it, but the scattering of spidery and intricate runes and patterns that ran up and down most surfaces pulsed an unsettling dark red. This provided sufficient light for the outline the room’s few furnishings — a large table and an ornate throne — to be seen.

The so-called ‘lord’ shut the doors behind him and stomped his way over to the throne, took a seat, and folded his arms over his chest. He heaved and sighed noisily.

“I knew I should never have sent him up there!” the young lord of darkness growled.

There was a pause, and then, from the far corner of the room, some shuffling. Yet another robed man, this one much older, stepped forward. “You had no way of knowing, sire,” the man offered up through yellowed teeth. “It was a good idea.”

“I shouldn’t have sent him,” the man repeated. He sunk down, slightly, putting his face in his hands. “I should have… I should have done something.”

“Knowledge is power,” the older man said, taking a few more steps forward. “Isn’t that what they always say? What you did you did for the empire — for the underworld — for all of us. Your brother… he knew the risks when he agreed to go.” The man stopped and adjusted his robes. “Besides… there may be time for us to rescue him yet.”

“I don’t know,” the dark lord mumbled and kicked his feet out a little. “It sounds… it sounds like they’ve really got him this time,” he said. “He sent me letters, did you know that?” the lord asked. He pushed his hand forward, to some scattered papers on the table, and held them out in the direction of his adviser.

The other man waddled forward and snatched the pages. He then thumbed through them, mouthing the words and reading them quietly under his breath as he darted from one line to the next with surprising mental dexterity. Once he had finished, he stopped, sucked in a deep breath, and swallowed, hard. “I…” he began, but he caught himself slack-jawed and unable to speak for a moment. “I’m sorry, my liege.”

Before the dark lord could respond, the doors he’d entered through were thrust open. His introspective frown quickly gave way to a scowl, as a woman entered. She was dressed more regally than most of the others who’d been hiding away in the shadows earlier, and she stood with confidence and poise even under the icy stare of the devil himself.

“The stars have shifted,” she said. “Something has happened.” Her brows furrowed slightly and, when the dark lord and his adviser exchanged a knowing glance, she only furrowed them further. “What is it?” she asked. “Do you know what is happening?”

The young lord rose quickly and pushed passed the woman on his way into the hallway. “I hope not,” was all he said. His adviser, spry for his age, darted out behind the man, and the scholarly woman followed from a safe but curious distance.

They made a frantic dash for the observatory from which the woman had departed only a few minutes earlier. As before, what few tortured souls and peasants populated the halls of the dark lord’s estate were only visible as quivering, whimpering silhouettes in the distance. The trio ascended an enormous staircase that seemed to go on for an impossible length of time, until they came to another pair of large doors. The brutish lord entered the observatory with a violent shove and the two scholars who were still inside scattered without words.

He gazed out the window at the vastness of the skies, of space, of the darkness. One single star shone much brighter than the rest, and his gnawed his lip in thought while he traced the others in his mind. Finally, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned away.

“It’s too late,” he said. “… it has happened.”

“I’m confused,” the woman said, looking to the adviser. “What happened?”

“The Empress has our lord’s brother,” the adviser said.

“… oh, no,” the other woman whispered. “She killed him?”

“Worse,” the old man said, tone lowering. “She married him.”

— ©Ed Beaumont, edbeaumont.wordpress.com