Chapter 2

Thieves In The Night

Dorbella was one with the night as she emerged from the pond, laughing silently under her breath as she surveyed the estate. For a human dwelling, the place was quite picturesque, and well-guarded to boot. The property was largely walled and fenced-off, and the night watch made sure to regularly monitor the walls as well as the thickets around the estate. Pity they didn’t give the same attention to the pond-it was easy for one of Dorbella’s talents to enable herself to breathe underwater and swim into the pond through the underground waterways. She’d also made herself invisible before surfacing. She made ripples in the pond when she surfaced, but in the dark of the night the guards would never notice them.

Dorbella looked around the estate, finding the perfect place to focus her next spell. Closing her eyes, Dorbella concentrated intently, an evil smile on her face as she cast her spell. The spell caused the lights of torches to appear in the distance, accompanied by the sounds of angrily shouting people trying to force their way through the gates of the estate. Just as Dorbella expected, the estate’s guards converged on that point.  

Dorbella’s magical distraction made it that much easier for her to steal through the estates, as silent as a whisper. She remained invisible all throughout, and her tracks were completely masked by her sorcery.

The doors to the manor-house were securely locked, but not so the windows. It was a simple matter for Dorbella to scale the walls and force open the window to the little boy’s room. The child barely had time to open his eyes before Dorbella had snatched him up and covered his mouth. Her magic turned the little one invisible as well, and in no time at all Dorbella had slipped out of the room, back down the wall and onto the lawn. She snuffed out her illusions at the gate, leaving the guards hopelessly confused, as she carried the still-gagged child back to the pond.

Pieden Ronard hated this day of the week.

More particularly, he hated this night of the week, since the dreams came while he slept. Try as he might, he could not prevent himself from having them.

Every dream always contained the same thing. Pieden saw a vision of his son Elian, half-starved and crying in the dark pit he was kept in, as a chilling laughter echoed in the background. Shadows danced at the edge of Pieden’s vision, making the entire scene seem like a hazy, half-forgotten memory.

Then, Pieden saw what the wicked ones did to Elian. Sometimes they used their magic to twist Elian’s mind, reducing him to a babbling moron. Other times they left Elian sickly and gasping for breath, as they twisted his body itself. Once, they paralyzed Elian, as if to simply remind the boy just how trapped and helpless he was.

Pieden knew what the wicked ones wanted. He wasn’t sure who he hated more, the wicked ones for what they were doing to Elian, or himself for not being able to stop them. They were demanding more victims, he knew, and if he did not bring them then Elian would die.

So be it, then.