Book of The Dead

Lady Recillia Erryn sat, hands folded in her lap, her posture unthreatening and cooperative, yet the look in her eyes revealed fire and ambition raging out of control within. The very picture of what a Noble should be, a child of The Five Divines and ruler of the lands.

She would never win any beauty contests, and had lost the allure of youth some time ago, yet that wasn’t what was compelling about her. Dressed simply, almost plainly, in a green dress with little lace or decoration, and only a few, well chosen pieces of jewellery that matched her striking ice-blue eyes, she still managed to command attention with the force of her personality and her almost palpable iron will.

The Duke regretted that she had never come into his eye before. Placing someone with her ability and ambition in charge of the Magisters had been a mistake. Such a position was usually a dead end appointment, something thrown to one of the houses as a sop that nobody truly cared about. Yet in this current emergency, the position had risen precipitously to a station of incredible value and power.

Now this woman with eyes like a dragon sat in his council chamber, and he depended on her to survive this crisis. He wasn’t happy about it.

“Is there anything else the Magisters can do to influence the rogue Slayers?” Duke Raugrave demanded. “We curse each and every one of them, the expense of which is astronomical, mind you, yet you tell me you’ve done all that you can?”

The most senior Magister in the province stroked his beard nervously. Grand Magister Tommat Baln had never wished to live in such important times, and he was keenly aware of the fact he was failing to live up to them.

“It is difficult for us to determine which Slayers are responsible for the deaths of our brothers,” he said nervously.

“So activate all of them,” the Duke demanded impatiently. Lady Recillia nodded to show her agreement.

The Grand Magister blanched, almost yanking the beard from his chin as he was in the process of stroking it to calm himself.