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Not able to enjoy the victory he helped to create and not allowed to sit on the throne he helped vacate, his son would rule instead. Thus was served the chink in the first family’s armor. Powerful and skilled as Satar was, he did not have his father’s mind. Trained since birth for murder and destruction as he was, Satar was not even sane.
With his father gone, Satar abandoned decade’s old plans. He was sure he knew how to rule, even without his father’s guidance. His first improvisation of his father’s decrees were to send forth his loyal men to find the missing prince. Galen had been gone for some time and might even be dead or at least Satar hoped he was. For only Galen could challenge his rule and most likely only Galen could lead a rebellion, garnering his considerable reputation and charisma. Satar knew that for all his magic the prince was well trained and quite capable of ending his short reign as king. He also wanted to execute the royal family but was counseled by his advisors that they may still be useful if an uprising did occur.
Regardless, pure evil ruled now and a dynasty had ended. The only hope for the people of Genossia now was a long missing prince and few even considered that as a possibility. Satar sat upon the throne and even his own men whispered of his insanity. Often talking of how the king talked to himself and dictated to no one. Of course, none of those men ever took the time to witness the huge shadow that loomed behind him whenever he did sit upon the throne. If they did the whispers might have been of demonic consultation.


CHAPTER 8
RETURN TO HAVOCTOWN


About two weeks had passed since the expedition into Ara’moor. Darkon and his newfound comrades had built a small home for themselves on the outskirts of Havoctown. With one room made large for general use and three separate chambers for personal, it was a modest home that thanks to Sevele did not lack a feeling of home. She had decorated the walls with tapestries she bought at the market. They mostly depicted forests and animal life, which made it easier for Graton and herself to stay there. The main room boasted a large oak table Galen had won at the betting stalls of the local brothel. Each room had a bed and a chest for personal belongings and a window that closed by shutters. Indeed it was the most pleasant home in the seedy town and visitors were not uncommon.
Sevele still had responsibilities in the woods of Ara’moor but she always spent some of the nights with Darkon. The two had grown very close and eventually shared their first experiences with the ways of true lovers. Indeed both were as love struck as two people could be. Galen found the whole thing amusing and at any time he might call Darkon Sevele. He truly enjoyed the look on Darkon’s face when he would bow curtly and call him Lady Sevele, though Darkon never cracked a smile or showed the slightest bit of irritation.
Sevele on the other hand thought Galen was perhaps envious of the two and their affections for one another. She soon had the kind and thoughtful idea of introducing him to someone who would be worthy of a prince. Though Galen spent much of his time at the local brothel Sevele knew no woman there was worthy of him. She thought she knew what Galen’s kind of woman was so she went to town at midday to look around for a possibility. Anyone who would distract him from calling her Darkon would be very good. At the very least maybe he’d stop calling Darkon by her name. She was sure he was going to kill Galen eventually though she knew he never gave the prince the satisfaction of showing his anger.
Soon Sevele walked up the main road that cut right through Havoctown’s center. The activity that was constant here was jarring when they first arrived but she’d grown accustomed. Regular visits to Ara’moor often helped her re-center her thoughts and soul. Only by daylight would she walk alone through town for she knew well enough the dangers that were about at night. Even now the stares of dangerous looking men made her uneasy. Darkon would be angry if he knew she went through town alone but she could take care of herself. The one time a man had approached her she recalled, she handled it quite well. As he walked toward her with a frightening look in his eyes she began to speak in the goblin tongue, cursing and raving loudly enough to gain the attention of two dwarven warriors who were nearby. The man stood before her unfazed but the dwarves, who understood goblin quite well, tackled her out of nowhere. They were not exactly the results she’d been seeking but the strange man moved away.
Sevele laughed aloud as she passed by the blacksmith shop remembering how hard it was to convince the two goblin hating dwarves that she was not a goblin in disguise.
A high pitched laughter broke Sevele’s reverie as she neared the quieter section of town. Here was where the small folk placed their tents and plied their trades. Renowned throughout the land for their skills at carving figurines and weaving the softest fabrics the folk were a welcome guest in any town. Indeed in this rowdy place they were a god’s gift. She looked over the happy group sitting in a large circle bartering over small items and noticed one thing in particular.
Standing just outside the ring was a female of some race she had never seen before. She was barely five feet in height and her full figure showed she was no mere child. Her overall appearance was like that of the small folk yet she was too big to be one herself. Sevele was too curious to let it go so she eased her way toward the group. Some took notice and seemed about to protest but upon seeing her elven ears they quickly calmed.
She decided then that she should introduce herself formally, as was the way between fearie kind. Sevele stepped between two folk and entered the circle itself as she loudly cleared her throat. Gaining everyone’s attention she clenched both her hands before her heart and looked skyward, facing north.
Invoking the name of these small folk she held both arms wide as if soaking in the sunlight and spoke loudly, “Dear Che’burr, I am Sevele of Ara’moor.”
Whispers erupted among the Che’burr and Sevele heard Ara’moor mentioned several times. From the small folk’s ranks stepped an elderly man and the rest immediately quieted. Standing only three feet in height he was almost comical and Sevele could not help but smile as he approached her.
Holding his diminutive hands skyward he said in a shaking voice, “Sevele the beauteous, welcome.”
At that the rest promptly cheered aloud, for they had been given a new friend.
By knowing the small folk’s true race name Sevele had shown she was already a friend with other fearie. The Che’burr crowded around her and took her hands one by one in their own. Finally as the last one touched her things calmed down and the bartering resumed. She could now speak to any of the Che’burr she wished. Giving hugs to several tiny children she made her way to the tall Che’burr she had spotted earlier. She did prove to be one of them because she greeted Sevele as did all the others.
The girl seemed excited to be noticed and exclaimed an exuberant “Hello!”, before Sevele could say a word.
“My name is Rena.” She said as Sevele smiled.
This was going to be easy.
Putting a hand on Rena’s shoulder she said, “Hello there, Rena. Would you like to walk with me for a while and talk?”
Rena seemed elated at the prospect and quickly agreed. She explained the Che’burr were passing through and would do odd jobs and sell their crafts before moving on to the next town.
She also explained why she was so different from her people saying, “My father was away for a time and my mother was accosted by human bandits. I am the impure result of that horrible day.”
Sevele apologized but Rena would have none of it and said, “No need to be sorry for me, my mother and father love me no less and my time for finding has come. The only thing is, my parents are unsure if I should find a Che’burr or a human mate.”
“What do you want?” Sevele asked.
Rena looked to where her parents were to be sure they would not hear her and answered, “I think I want a human mate but I am afraid to hurt my father. He may not understand.”
Sevele understood all too well. The truth was she was concerned over that as well. Rena was pure and innocent. What human man would not take advantage of those facts and mistreat her because she knew no better? That’s when it came to her.
Galen would be taken aback at her innocence surely but he would definitely fall for the big green eyes and long silky chestnut hair. Rena was very lovely and her every feature was pronounced by her petite size. Her figure was not lacking in any manner and surely would gain the attention of any sane man. Sevele smiled, wondering just how sane Galen was. This was a beauty incomparable to any human woman she’d ever seen. Yes, Galen would never have a chance, and if he did mistreat her Sevele would castrate him herself.
It wasn’t long before she had them both introduced and within days they were walking together like young children, giggling and pointing at things they had seen many times before. They would sit upon the large rocks Galen and Darkon had placed in front of their new home and stare at the sky. She was very pleased at the princely treatment Galen showed to Rena and resigned herself to the fact she would not have to mince his manliness.
Darkon looked at the display and raised one eyebrow and asked Sevele, “Did we look that silly at first?”
Sevele only laughed taking his arm and pulling him into the large room of the house. The scent of tree sap still permeated the house and the two settled in for the afternoon meal. The weeks had been passing very quickly since Galen and Rena had met and Darkon often warned his friend to enjoy it while he could for Merleptus would be arriving soon just as the wizard had promised.
Indeed as they ate cheese and bread that day and Graton sat meditating at the doorway of his chamber they were startled to hear the elf suddenly speak, “He’s coming.”
Darkon asked the question though he already knew the answer, “Who is coming?”
“Merleptus.” Was his answer.
Darkon looked at Sevele and the two shared an uncomfortable moment. They had grown happy these past weeks and were unsure whether they even wanted this long awaited quest. Although the adventure through the catacombs was not harmful to any of them the mage had warned that this coming mission would require more care.
Darkon looked to the Griffon lord and asked through his mind, “How long?”
Graton answered in like manner and said, “Two days.”
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