Shifting Stars by Gary Stringer (simple e reader .TXT) 📕

even slow her down until, finally, she reached the steps leading to the door of the tower itself. The ragged remains of a robe of black fluttered in the breeze, revealing the bones beneath it: the cursed, skeletal remains of Ulvarius himself. Remains that, the moment Dreya put one foot on the lowest step, picked themselves up off the railings, took on shadowy flesh, wrapped in that tattered old robe and drew itself up to a height of seven feet, looming over Dreya in the form of a lich.

A sibilant voice in Dreya’s mind said, ‘Long have I waited for thee. Faery blood, no less. Excellent! You see, Ulvarius planned this all along: Ulvarius achieved much before, but that shall be as nothing to what I can do with thy power and mine combined. Thy body and thy magic shall serve Ulvarius for a very long time to come. Now, kneel before Ulvarius and submit thyself!’

The horrific sound of the lich’s laughter carried for miles around. Dreya's hood fell from her head, seemingly blown back by the power of the lich, and the wind its laughter created.

Dreya sank slowly to one knee…

…and casually picked a single black rose, bringing it up to her face to smell, deeply.

Standing once more, she said, calmly, “Get out of my head, go to hell and take your pretentious speech with you. Referring to yourself in the third person is impressing no-one.

“Now is the time!” she declared. “I choose the Darkness.”

Her red robes darkened and lost their colour until they were the deepest, darkest black. Her Realignment complete, Dreya pricked her finger on one of the thorns on the rose’s stem. Watching her blood trickle down her hand, she allowed her magic to mingle with it and flow through her veins.

“You are weak, Ulvarius. This is now my home, and you have no place in it.”

The lich had now stopped gloating and begun to back away.

‘Blood magic? That’s impossible!’

Ignoring him, wasting no words, Dreya cast out a beam of dark energy, slamming into the lich, who began to disintegrate before her eyes.

‘But blood magic is unstable!’ it cried, even as it faded.

“It is perfectly stable,” Dreya countered, still never raising her voice. “It just…requires…” The lich exploded and vanished into nothingness, banished to the depths of hell. “…control,” Dreya concluded.

With nothing left to impede her, she climbed the remaining steps, opened the door with a look and stepped inside her new home.

*****

Over the next few days, Dreya was seen strolling through her grounds, re-examining Ulvarius’ defences, either changing them to better suit her, to ward and protect rather than maim and kill, or eradicating them. She even set the undead guards to work on tidying the gardens. The once perpetual dark sky was banished, giving way to a blazing sun amid high, fluffy clouds and Tempestria’s typical swirling vortex of energy.

Most of the people of Gaggleswick adapted, as people often do, and seeing no immediate danger, they continued with their lives, regardless. Once they learned the name of the new Mistress of the Black Tower, a nickname began to surface. When it reached the ears of the sorceress herself, she decided that, while not particularly imaginative, it did have a certain ring to it, and she found she rather liked it. From that day forward, then, it became her official name: Dreya the Dark.

However, the Squire and local assembly were not so content. They all knew the history of the Black Tower and Ulvarius’ reign of terror, and they feared that with this new occupant, the violence, horror and bloodshed might begin all over again. The squire filed an objection with the Council of Wizards, but his complaint was thrown out.

He received a reply:

Dear Sir,

Further to your complaint against Dreya the Dark, Black robe sorceress currently occupying the Black Tower.

After due consideration, we write to inform you that the Council of Wizards has ruled in her favour. She has broken no laws of magic, and as such, we cannot countenance any action against her. As for her claim of ownership of said Black Tower, the only former owner of the tower, Ulvarius, has been declared officially deceased for three centuries, so Dreya has merely chosen to make use of a vacant property. Border disputes are generally outside our jurisdiction; however, our research suggests the Black Tower was never officially part of the town of Gaggleswick, being instead its own private estate.

Therefore, on the matter of your complaint, we find there is no case to answer.

Yours in magic,

Laethyn, Justaria, Maia,

Council representatives.

*****

Given this ruling, the Gaggleswick Assembly resigned themselves to their new neighbour, but Squire Johanssen himself was not so easily swayed. He sent an envoy to the ruler of the neighbouring Faery Kingdom of Sylfrania, King Theodorus, to seek his views on the matter. Again, most Faery were inclined to let things be. A Balance-aligned Faery wizard had been a curiosity; a Dark-aligned one was a scandal, but no-one was interested in doing anything more than gossip about it.

Except for one.

The King’s youngest son, Prince Travarin of Ainderbury, the closest Sylfranian province to the Black Tower, was incensed by the ruling. He believed a Dark-aligned Faery was an affront to all that was good, and that Dreya the Dark was already having a corrupting influence on the purity of his daughter, Princess Zarinda, who seemed fascinated by her. The two leaders, then, agreed to launch an attack, before Dreya, having removed most of Ulvarius’ defences, had time to build her own.

*****

Three days later, a quad of the bravest holy Knights from Gaggleswick and a trio of the most devout White clerics from Ainderbury entered Dreya’s lands, intent on wiping out this dark stain on their community. To their surprise, no magic assailed them, no hellhounds tried to bite them, and the only things the undead warriors were interested in attacking were the weeds. It seemed to these righteous defenders that Dreya had made a grave mistake in leaving herself unguarded. They finally reached