Sorcerer's Shadow

Chapter 15: Alyssra Volade

While this realization should've made me more wary, it only fueled my anger. However, I managed to keep my voice steady as I returned to an earlier topic.

"Lord Drevolan, I think I've grasped why you knew Ignar would bring the gold to Pardus Mountain."

"That's encouraging."

"But what still eludes me is how you knew he would snatch the money in the first place."

"Oh, that part was simple. You see, I'm a sort of Sorcerer. I believe you are too."

"Yes," I admitted.

"Well, as you would know, with Sorcery, it's possible to implant an idea into someone's mind. We made him think that it would be both safe and lucrative, and he acted accordingly."

"You scoundrel!" The words erupted from me before I could rein them in. Instantly, I wished I could take them back, but it was too late.

Drevolan halted and swiveled to face me. His hand rested casually on his sword's hilt. Looking down at me, his expression was anything but friendly. "Excuse me?"

I kept my gaze fixed on his eyes and remained silent. I let my shoulders loosen up, my mind mentally reaching for my closest weapona stiletto with a four-and-an-eighth-inch blade nestled in my left sleeve, rigged for a right-handed draw. If I lunged for his throat, my chances of success were pretty decent.

But the relaxed pose he adoptedhis loose neck, shoulders, and arms, and his stable stancesuggested he could likely strike me as I attacked him. A single slice from a Norsanti blade would be enough.

"Let me rephrase," I said. "If you meddle with my people again, I'll rip your heart out." I steadied my breathing and studied him.

"Is that so," he said, rendering it more of a statement than a question. A hint of sarcasm flickered across his face, and without a sign, he stepped back, ascending another stair. He moved with surprising speed! His blade remained sheathed, leaving me with a choice between drawing my rapier or hurling my knife. Even for someone with my proficiency, killing with a thrown knife is more reliant on luck than skill.

I stood my ground, anticipating his move. He mirrored my stance. His knees were slightly flexed and his balance was impeccable, his left foot resting on the upper stair, his right hand casually draped over his sword's hilt. I felt the chilly touch of the dagger's handle against my left wrist and concluded it was my sole hope. My rapier was virtually useless; his speed outmatched mine. I stayed silent and waited.

Eventually, he offered a smirk and a slight bow. "Very well, Lord Vorgan, we'll settle this at another time." Turning his back to me, he resumed his ascent. The fleeting thought of stabbing him in the back vanished quickly. Even if I could execute it successfully, it would leave me stranded in Pardus Mountain, my only company a likely furious Alyssra Volade, who could easily prevent me from teleporting away.

And there was still the unresolved issue of Ignar and the two thousand gold imperials.

Adopting an air of indifference, I trailed him. My knees felt steady, demanding my full attention for the ensuing moments. We bypassed a few more doors on our left before reaching a narrow corridor. The corridor extended through an arch and then broadened. The walls were black, only broken by sporadic torches. The rough stone was unfamiliar to me but certainly wasn't obsidian. It seemed to absorb light, radiating an innate somberness and a subtle hint of menacing power and darkness.

I understand that for an Imperion, black signifies magic. However, to me, black just seems gloomy. Imperion are twisted creatures; I've mentioned this before.

As we moved along, I noted the torches were spaced seventeen feet apart.

Drevolan ushered me through a door which revealed a compact, iron spiral staircase. We climbed it to reach a more expansive hall that subtly inclined upwards, lined with more lamps and intricate doorways. The walls persisted in their unbroken black.

At one point, I asked, "Was there no more convenient way to bring me here?"

"We could have abducted you," he responded.

We stopped in front of a sizable wooden door adorned with a depiction of a crouching Pardus. Pushing the door open, Drevolan led me inside.

The room was a thirty-foot square, lit by the soft glow of candles and torches. Black dominated the decor, casting a comfortable yet imposing ambiance, which I've already expressed my thoughts about. Dancing shadows made it challenging to discern the room's features...

...But there was someone seated in one of the chairs. I had a strong hunch about her identity. As our eyes met, all movement ceased. She was lean, her smooth, timeless face with its sharp features and hollow cheeks framed by pitch-black hair. I was seriously growing weary of the color black.

While an Imperion might find her attractive, I wasn't sure. Her skin was startlingly pale, contrasting sharply with the room's darkness. Naturally, she was dressed in black, her gown with high lace ruffles reaching up to her chin. A large ruby was affixed just below the ruffle. Her hands were slender, and the pointed nails added to their length. On her left middle finger was a ring, possibly with a sizable emerald. She gazed at me with eyes that were profound, bright, and ancient.

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