Let us play with the snakes. Lovely
little creatures. They do not judge.
~ Tattle
Luvanor
Atrin
Continent
Valla Castle
THE
DANK CASTLE on the edge of a
lake was deserted of guards, retainers and caretakers. It was not, however,
empty; there were birds, snakes, bats and insects the size of a man’s fist, all
of whom reclaimed what they regarded as their territory. Bat droppings stank up
the place, feathers hung suspended from thick spider webs. Squeals of newborn
chicks, mostly raptors, echoed through the dark, empty halls and passageways.
Brightly coloured, dangerous snakes slithered out to find warmth according to
their biological instincts and rats skittered away at the sight, fearing to
become dinner. In a short time, the jungle and its creatures had retaken the
stone habitat.
It was not habitable and Krikian
wrinkled his nose. “You are not serious.”
“Perfect,” Lowen uttered, while looking
around nervously.
“We will clear a section,” Torrullin
said. “And it is perfect. Nobody comes here.”
He led them up dark, slippery stairs to
find the chambers the Valla women and children used when in residence. They
were now in Grinwallin. The chambers were cleaner, if marginally. Yet he was
dismayed. It was not right to leave Krikian in these conditions; it was akin to
punishment. Whatever haste determined, it was not this.
“It will be light soon. We clean up and
then rest.”
“Agreed,” Krikian said, dropping his
load.
“You are delaying,” Lowen accused.
“I would not leave my worst enemy in
this hellhole. And we need a full night’s sleep. We get this place habitable in
daylight, and then we go.”
She had an ancient carpetbag with her,
and she set it down with great care. “Fine.”
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