attention on Ari.
had been invaded,” said Doral.
pay.”
“State your business, Prince
DeHelios. You said something
about a magistra, a healer and
brite-weed.”
“Yes. And our city-state is more
isolated than most.” Hel gazed off
at some unseen horizon. “My
younger brother and I had gone
down our mountain to track and
verify the rumor of war and
invasion. We returned to discover
that war and invasion had come to
us.” Hel walked to a window and
looked out. Every eye followed
him. “The Haarb looted the city
and massacred the living. In the
weeks that followed, survivors
filtered back into Nyth Uchel but at
the time of our return, all we saw
was death.
Doral spoke into the pause. “Very
early in the war, I heard tales of the
bás dtost —the ‘silent death’—of
Nyth Uchel, of Haarb soldiers
gutted and left hanging from trees
by their intestines. We were never
sure if it was a superstitious tale or
fact. That was you.”
DeHelios stood and shrugged off
his heavy outwear before he
addressed the room, turning in a
semi-circle as he spoke their
names. “High Lord DeTano, Your
Majesty, Visconte DeLorion, Lord
Ramsey, Lieutenant Colonel…”
“Oh, by Her stars, Sir. Let’s not
stand on ceremony.” Queen
Constante interrupted DeHelios
with a smile. “I am Fleur.” Her
arm gestured to her right and then
to her left. “Ari and Doral. Ramsey
and Steffania. My medica, Adonia.
And you are?”
“Hel.”
“Yes, yes, but your first name is?”
Silence settled into the room.
“Sir?” said the queen.
“Just Hel.”
“Your mother named you Hel?”
“Just call me “Hel.” DeHelios
folded his arms and scowled.
With a rueful shake of her head,
Fleur conceded. “All right, just
Hel. Continue.”
The man gathered his thoughts for
a moment then frowned. “I
suppose it all began with the Haarb
invasion of Nyth Uchel and the
massacre of House DeHelios.
Their armies took the city
completely by surprise.”
“I understand the Haarb attacked
you early on in the war. Most
Verdantians were still unaware we
“For the first time in our history,
Torre Bianca stood dark against
the sky, her diamantorre shattered.
Nyth Uchel and the city below lay
in ruins. Partially consumed bodies
lay everywhere, the wolves and
other scavengers so glutted they
had eaten only the choicest parts.”
Hel tapped on the stone sill while
he spoke. “My younger brother and
I buried our entire family—my
older brother, his wife and their
three children, my mother, my
father, my wife and,” Hel paused
and took a deep breath, “my sixyear old son and two-year old
daughter.”
Adonia ached at the heartbreak
poorly concealed in his flat voice.
With a tiny, almost inaudible
moan, Fleur slipped her hand into
Ari’s. Her other reached up and
found Doral’s resting on the back
of her chair.
Hel turned to face the room, his
arms loosely crossed, his hip
cocked on the window casement.
He gazed unseeing at the floor. “In
the years that followed, I haunted
the Haarb patrols that trespassed
onto my mountain and made them
Hel’s eyes held Doral’s and
Adonia didn’t think she’d ever
seen a face so bleak.
“Yes. That was me. I thought that
death befitting for it was what they
had done to me. Their screams
were poor compensation for my
loss.”
“Another lull settled into the room
until Hel gave a sigh and a shrug.
“Finally, the Haarb stopped
coming and the news of their
defeat reached even the isolation of
Nyth Uchel. I returned to my
shattered city, my people, and we
tried to rebuild.”
“It was during that time that I
noticed…” Hel frowned and gave a
puzzled shake of his head. “…dead
zones in the forest surrounding
Nyth Uchel—pockets of death
where nothing healthy lived, no
natural animal, no normal green
growth. A foul blight polluted the
soil. Strange mutations of creatures
appeared on the outskirts of the
city.
“Since that time, the areas of blight
have expanded unchecked and one
now threatens the western border
of Nyth Uchel. This unnatural
contagion that alters the soil and all
that grows in it, is slowly killing
my people. I don’t know how it
spreads, but the foulness attacks a
person’s soul, their spirit, their
anima, feeding on their life force