Far away from Talan lay an island, ringed by volcano islands, formed into a smoothed lava steppe made by its own volcano. Outside of this ring of volcanoes lay the frigid waters of the most northern sea of Farsis, Allweal. If you walked up from the coast of the island, on the only side that didn’t have a sheer rock cliff, you would walk from the sea’s warm water into the bottom of a canyon with jagged rock walls. This canyon looked as if the flat edge of a giant sword blade had been drug through the island to make a large swath of nothingness. Ahead for several hours you would not be able to see anything but these walls seemingly coming to a point way off in the distance.
Eventually, if you felt the need to continue, you would find a wall wrought of the same stone as that of the canyon walls. You would see that this wall curved inward and met in the center of the canyon’s floor. It rose to the height of the flat steppe that ringed the whole island. The wall had no door. No gate through which to walk. However, if you were to surmount this wall and continue beyond it you would see an incredible sight. For right past this wall stood the Dragon King’s castle.
This castle had seven tall, black towers that rose out of a multi-faceted based building, with a jagged motif that reflected the grayish-black rock that covered the whole of the island. The towers reached well above the plateaued landscape that covered the rest of the island--helping keep a watchful eye. Walkways spanned the sky, connecting the towers together. Around the sides and the rear of the castle was what looked like a city, but devoid of life. The houses and buildings all had stone walls, but there wasn’t a one that had a roof. The city looked as if a fire had moved through it with a terrible tempest and no concern of who or what it effected.
Starting at the edges of the surmounted wall and making a wall that encircled both the city and the castle was yet another cliff wall that rose to the steppe above. In this cliff wall were the homes of the creatures from which the Dragon King receives his title. These homes were massive grottoes that made the interior cliff wall look like the skin of a pocked-man.
Between the edge of the city and the Dragon home wall was a meanchin feeding ground, a once thick forest of the most exotic type. The burned out tree trunks and the left over ash only added to the severity of the scene.
Rising even above the towers, far in the distance, was the Serpent Mount. The volcano that provided the stone for the Dragon King’s domain.
It was a dreary sight for most. But especially for those that had visited this island during the reign of a previous Dragon King.
Deep in the dungeon, in the lowest floor of the Dragon Keep was a room. It had a wooden floor that was spotted with perfectly smooth large bowls, randomly located, as if a blind man had chosen their location. The walls and ceiling were made of the island’s stone. The room was deep and long with plain stone columns in several long rows. A sconce was attached at eye-level on each column. None of the sconces were lit, providing no light. At the door and along the wall to either side of the door were meanchin, waiting for a Silverstream to Awaken for its monthly training. Their dark gray skin and misshapen, almost scavanged, armour reflected the small light that came from a slow churning pool of silver liquid a fourth of the way down the room. The meanchin were uneasy. Usually, throughout the month only one of them had to stand guard outside the door to this room, but once a month it was the poor fortune of a group of their kind to fight the Silverstream. As it was with this lot. It wouldn’t be hard to fight the Silverstream if it fought in its natural form. But, sadly that was not the case.
This pool of viscous silver liquid spread across the floor in the exact diameter of all of the rounded out bowls. It was there, slowly moving in a semi-chaotic pattern, sleeping, if that is what a Silverstream does when it rests.
With a ripple like a pebble having been dropped in its surface, the Silverstream came to life. It flowed over the edge of the bowl and around the meanchin. Taunting them. The Silverstream glided across its chambers like a pool of living quicksilver. Fluidly splitting itself as if the meanchin were immovable rocks. It didn’t have a shape that it wanted to or could take, at least not yet, and so it meandered like so many tributaries heading towards the same reservoir.
Slowly the pool collected below a stone stand that held a wide bracelet. The bracelet was wide enough to cover a man’s wrist. The stand’s tabletop placed the bracelet at the height of a man’s wrist would be if his arm was laid on it. A light blue stone had been fastened to the center of the top of the bracelet. It shone steely cold. The Silverstream started to flow from its center into a cylinder that arched up and through the bracelet. The stone recognized the wearer’s intent and released its magic. The bracelet started to grow, like a metallic plant, at a supernatural rate. The growth enveloped the Silverstream with a metallic gray-colored shell. Once the Silverstream was completely covered, the shell slowly molded and took the form of a humanoid suit. The Silverstream flowed back and forth inside the suit as it shifted and expanded into its new shape. The suit was a blank slate. No features were evident. Nothing to distinguish the wearer. It was the same base gray color of the bracelet, indicating that it hadn’t fully taken on a representation of its wearer’s desires, wants, and experiences. But, that changed in an instant. The suit went pitch black, darker than the darkest heart in the darkest cave. Large braided spikes grew out the back of the head, like windswept locks frozen in time. The jaw elongated into a square wolf-looking mandible. The nose grew with it, creating a ghastly humanoid-wolf face. The stubs of both arms thinned and grew into clawed hands, ready and willing to work the death that ate at the wearer’s heart. The suit’s legs continued to grow to match the arms it had just created. The last change was two slits for eyes. The slits didn’t actually split, it just turned transparent. With that the silver eyes shone like metallic beacons in a starless night sky.Silencestalker was once more. Not in his purest form, but that wouldn’t be long. I will find my prize, again. He thought to himself. There was a bit of humor to his thought. Not a mirthful humor, but more of the laughing sound of a half-starved hyena.
The suit was an adaptation of a battle armour designed by Ejinat, the Dragon King’s Chief Magician. It allowed the Silverstream to be contained in one form. However, since the Silverstream can only move itself and can never apply a physical force on another being or thing, except air and when it feeds--dead wood, the suit was made to operate based on the wearer’s thoughts and desires. Essentially, their will. The suit acted like a second skin, and moved at the speed of thought. With this suit Silencestalker was a formidable foe, as anyone would be.
Silencestalker waited until the suit settled completely and made its final adjustments. This took a few minutes for the suit to harden and completely become one with its wearer’s mind.
Finally becoming accustomed to the suit, again, the Silverstream stepped slowly towards the double rank of meanchin. He thought of a weapon and the claws on his left hand disappeared and became normal rounded fingers. Out of the palm of his hand grew a black hilt and out of the hilt grew a blade. He enjoyed using the sword in his left hand. He fancied himself a bit different than all the other creatures in this land and using his left hand constantly reminded him of it. He had a buckler grow out of his right forearm. The fisted edge of the buckler slowly grew into a long sharp blade that tapered to a point.Time to play. He sneered.
He wouldn’t kill any of the little creatures, unless they were too slow. His lord wouldn’t like that, but if they were too slow then his lord wouldn’t have need of the sluggards anyway. Using the suit was very difficult because one had to be very diligent in controlling one’s thoughts. Unintentional thoughts could lead to unintended actions.
Stepping forward, with one foot, into a battle stance, he tilted his head and opened his snout. With an animal-like snarl, and as if he were yelling, he let out a rumble that started with vibrating the floor and ended with almost taking the sconces off of the columns.
All of the gray goblins took a step back. This was the worst lot that their kind had to go through. But with the determination of the fires they fed off, all twelve of them brandished their weapons at the demon before them and charged, screeching at the top of their lungs as if to quell the Silverstream’s war cry. And so the monthly melee started, yet again.
***
The Dragon King and his Chief Magician’s daughter, Djesal were walking in the Lava Flow gardens in his castle’s courtyard. “She looks like she is four years old. Her growth is slower than normal children. She’s been here at least eight years, if I recollect properly.” Djesal was in a pensive mood. “At least her mind seems to be working properly. She can have a very sharp tongue.”
“Too be sure!” The Dragon King chuckled. “I don’t know if I have ever met a dragon with that much bite.”
The Lava Flow gardens were a rare spectacle of work. Each of the Dragon Kings before him had always added a new feature by diverting the underground lava flow into majestic fountains. They, being the Guardians of fire, claimed this island as their own and shaped it to their pleasing.
The Dragon King and his escort were talking through the issues of the castle, when the monthly rumble emanated out of the ground.
Silencestalker must have Awakened. Thought the Dragon King.
“You really aught to divert the lava flow from beneath the castle. One day we will all be sorry when the castle falls into a river of lava.” Djesal said with a furrow of her brow. Her comment was directed at the noise that had interrupted the two of them. “Don’t you think, Senao?” Djesal looked behind her at a harrowed man that followed in tow. She always felt sorry for him. His life was not what he thought it would have been. He was the next tulendor in line for the Dragon Throne, but he had been in that position for almost a hundred years, and the Dragon King still treated him like an apprentice.
“Djesal, that is only the island settling, it has been happening for a long time, and I am sure we are fine. If it makes you feel better, I will have Senao check the foundation.” The Dragon King looked at the Magician’s daughter with a sincere face.
Then the Dragon King looked back between Senao and Djesal, not actually looking at the other man, staring more-so at the rose-gold embroidery on the high collar of his black floor-length coat than anything else. “Senao?” He clicked with disgust at having to actually come close to giving the command.“Yes, master.” With that Senao turned and trudged his way through the majestic fountains to the castle and made his way down to the dungeons.
“Such an impertinent and useless being he is. I don’ t know what the old man was thinking when the he took him on as my Underling.” The Dragon King half said to himself. He turned to his companion and said “You know he can’t hold a flame in his hand without getting burned? What kind of Dragon King would that be? A hundred years of working with the walkin magic and this is what we get? It’s as if he never was a kingling.”
Djesal was taken aback at the use of the derogatory term. “That is unfair. His reign of the King’s Crown was a difficult one. He served the people very well.” She sighed at the look the Dragon King was giving her and started a different tactic. “He’ll be ready to take your place, when it is time. And anyway that is the way of tradition, you won’t have to worry about it.” Djesal consoled. She didn’t like to see Senao treated that way, but she also felt that the King did have some valid concerns. A Dragon King was just that because he could control fire--a simple fact.
A female meancin, Djesal thought her name was Zernk, stepped out from around a fountain that spouted lava into a diamond encrusted basin. Her guttural voice was hardly intelligible, “She has awoken. She makes water through her eyes. Should I stop her?” Usually, this meant that the child was wailing uncontrollably and that the King and Djesal should come quickly. The meanchin didn’t really care about the emotions that the child was displaying. She really didn’t feel anything but the insatiable hunger that all meanchin bring onto themselves due to the fires they feed on. She only cared because the King asked her to report any changes to him and because if she reported well, she would be allowed out into the feeding grounds.
The Dragon King looked at Zernk and then at Djesal. “I will go to her and comfort her. You should continue on your stroll.”
Djesal placed her hand on his forearm and patted it. “No, I wlll come, also. She may want to have me there. She probably had another nightmare of some kind. Did you know they have been happening more frequently lately?” She finished the last with a question. She hated to see the child be so tormented by her sleep.
“Thank you, Zernk. You may go to the fields. Be back in the next hour.” The Dragon King showed sincere gratitude. He looked up in the sky at a flying deathstarter. The dragon was flying at the height of the tallest tower and at its lord’s beckoning it swooped down straight at the three of them. It reared back right above the ground and flapped its massive wings to slow its descent and landed softly on its four taloned feet. The Dragon King placed his hand on the leather sleeve that covered the dragon’s head. The dragon glanced at the meanchin and understood its orders. The dragon then launched itself back into the sky with a few powerful strokes of its wings and flew towards the feeding grounds.
Zernk cocked her gray head and looked up at the Dragon King with a searching eye and in an instant trundled away from the two as fast as her stumpy legs would let her.
The Dragon King and Djesal made their way to the castle dormitory where the young child had been taking her nap. Posted outside the door was a flightless dragon. He had the usual leather hood seen on all of the dragons. He was laying in front of the child’s door. Lazily he lifted his head and pushed his torso up off the floor so that he could bring his head to the same level as the Dragon King’s. Calm defiance burned in the dragon’s eyes, but he backed from blocking the door. He was blood-red and with his forelegs now fully extended his head was higher than the door. Djesal noticed that floor in front of the door was still warm from the dragon’s internal flame as the two humans walked past the beast and went in through the door.
***
Zernk ran through the castle halls, and through the gate that led to the meanchin feeding ground. What she looked at was food enough to feed all of the meanchin on the island for the rest of their lives. At least this is what she saw. If you or any other person were to look at the scene she saw, you would be appalled. There were burned-out stumps almost ever two strides in any direction. The ground was strewn with ash, dirt and charcol remains of sticks and trees. You would be even more appalled if you were to have seen what this wasteland looked like, say seventy years ago. It was a forest that had a living tree from every land in Farsis. It was said that the largest and oldest tree that lived in this forest was given to the first Dragon King by the first tree walker, himself. Some say that that tree still lives and that no fire could ever put the life in it out.
She hesitated at the top of the steps that lead down onto a path. There at the bottom of the steps were two flightless dragons that had raised their heads at the sight of the little goblin-like creature. They followed her with their eyes as she approached the top of the staircase. Their eyes were pleading for her to come down. She just stood where she was until a screech from way above sounded. The two dragons watched Zernk as she started down the stairs.
Without a moment to loose, the gray goblin ran down the stairs and started stuffing her mouth full of ash. She knew of a particularly good ash collection that she had found several times before. Even though it was a bit far from the castle, she thought she could make it there and back in time. So she went on her way as she munched on a handful of ash.
The meanchin were fed ash on a daily basis in the keep, but that was all from the castle’s reserves and was very bland. Ash from some shrub that grew on the island’s steppe. However, all of this ash in the feeding grounds was from so many different trees and plants that it was a veritable smorgasbord to a meanchin pallet. She ate until she was completely full, then she burped and ate some more. All the while, she carried her self farther and farther from the castle doors, looking for her favorite spot.
She finally found the spot she was looking for and she sat down eating her fill. After that, she looked at the sun and realized she had a bit more time. She started wandering through the burned out tree trunks. The only other thing that meanchin look for when they are in the feeding grounds are globes. Zernk remembered that the stories of the globes told that eating a globe would make a meanchin so powerful that even the Dragon King would tremble. That is really the only thing that she remembered about the stories. Besides eating, eating some more was really all she cared about. But a thought came to her that if she were to find a globe and become so powerful that the Dragon Lord would fear her, then she would be able to come to the feeding grounds as often as she would like. Matter of fact, she wouldn’t have to leave, ever!
So she started to look. She kicked a few piles of ash. Broke some branches. Kicked at an old tree trunk. She didn’t really expect to find anything. No meanchin had ever come back to make the Dragon King tremble. At least not that she had seen. As she was thinking this she heard a loud screech from the deathstarter. And with that, the two flightless dragons ran at a heightened pace straight towards her. She was far enough away that she couldn’t see the dragons running towards her, but she could hear the thunder of their paws on the ground. She had gotten so lost in thought that she’d forgotten how long she had been out in the feeding grounds.
So she did what any meanchin would do. She ran. And did so with fervor away from the castle, and the charging dragons. She ran towards a steep hill that was ahead of her. She tried to scramble to the top of the hill, but she could find no purchase on the ash covered ground. She made it half way up the hill when she slipped and and started to slide down. She reached for whatever she could and caught a stump. The stump wasn’t from a large tree, and the ground underneath it was loose, so the meanchin’s weight pulled the stump’s roots up into the air. Zernk saw that there was a big hole where the roots had been. She scrambled into the roots and pulled the stump back down on top of her. There was just enough room for her body, and enough hope in her heart to lead her to believe that the dragon’s wouldn’t find her.
As she laid there, she heard the dragons snuffing about. She started to dig quietly. The dirt was loose enough that she was able to burrow further into the ground. There as she dug, her meaty clawed hand struck a hard object. It was smooth and it gave off a slight blueish glow. Every thought she had about trying to save herself disappeared at the appearance of this shiny object. She lifted it out of the ground and realized that she had, in fact, found a globe. She didn’t think twice about it. As if the globe had a will of its own, it drew her in, and she stuck it into her mouth. At first it wasn’t small enough to fit, but as she shoved it in, the globe turned into air, or better, light. It infused her whole being with light. And this light escaped out of the ground and through the roots of the trunk above her, piercing even the daylight with its brightness.
***
The child was still crying when The Dragon King and Djesal walked through the room’s threshold. It intensified when she saw Djesal. To match the intensity in her voice, she reached up with both arms and started bouncing.Djesal quickened her step so she could comfort the child. She sat down on the child’s bed and put her arms around her. The child buried her face into Djesal’s side.
After a few moments, the little girl’s heaving turned into deeply drawn breathes.
“Now, now. Rosana, what has you all in a fuss?” Djesal asked her.
The little girl pulled her face back from Djesal’s side and looked up at her with red, tear-soaked eyes. There still was a pout on her face that told Djesal to be patient.
“Take a breath and tell us what happened, my dear.” The Dragon King said as he both drew a chair to the small bed and gently took one of the little girl’s hands.
“I was laying in a brown house. And I had a special doll that I loved with all my heart.” She took a deep breath. “He was purple and...and I hid him so no one could find him.” Her voice started to grow higher in pitch.
To try to calm the child Djesal diverted her attention by asking “What was the doll made of?”
Rosana paused and said “I don’t know. It’s face was made of something brown and hard, almost like stone. But I know I loved that doll. Are you listening? Anyways, I hid it so well that I couldn’t remember where I put it. But my friend found him for me, and without even thinking about it, she told me! And then the Angry Man made me tell him how to find the doll, and he’s going to the house, and he’ll find it! And...and, I just know that I am too far away from where the doll is now. The Angry Man is going to get my doll!” She finished the last sentence with an intonation that over-dramatised the statement. She saw that she didn’t get the reaction she wanted from Djesal or from the King so she started picking at the thin, woollen blanket that covered her legs, her head half cocked and looking down at her fingers. She waited for Djesal to react and then said. “That’s when I woke up. It was terribly awful. I was crying ever so hard.”
Something in the girl’s explanation caught the King’s attention, and so, just to be sure, using his magic, he pulled all of the little girl’s experiences and made them his. This made the dream much more clear.
He was in a great hall, all made of wood. Along the side walls were several glassless windows. Looking closer, he could see that all of the wood in the room was alive. The ceiling was the greenery of the treetops of a forest. Swaying as the wind blew, letting sunlight stream through. The hall’s floor was a gapless root system, and the walls were trees placed so close together that, but for the windows, no light escaped between them. He was sitting on a large wooden throne that appeared to be made from the core of one of every type of tree that ever existed in the world--all grown into one living plant. It was as smooth as if a master carpenter had devoted his life to its creation.
The Wood Sprites had grown the Thronetree into existence as a gift to the Queen Princess. The Thronetree had a second seat to the Queen Princess’ right. Ready, if the Queen Princess were ever to take a husband. Also, grown along with these thrones, there was a cradle. It was at the feet of the two thrones. In this cradle was a baby, wrapped in gossamer woodsilk. Under the baby was a soft bedding of basal wood.
There curved two long tables--one to either side of the throne. Behind these tables sat the Wood Council. The governing body of walkins that saw that the will of the Queen Princess was carried out.
The King knew that he was actually seeing this experience through the Spirit of the Queen Princess and not through her body itself. Her Spirit was leaning to the side of the Thronetree, talking to a walkin in a purple outfit. The King sensed that this had happened a long, long time ago, well before he was even born. The two of them spoke as if they were old friends, and not subject and Queen. The Queen Princess changed the topic slightly,
“My dear one.” Her airy voice was a whisper in the wind. “Please take care and know that there are those that would want power for themselves. They would do this by taking my body.”
The small creature before her was taken aback at the thought. “My Queen, we would never let such a thing happen.” FilaFlis stood there on the Thronetree’s armrest as resolute as a soldier riding towards his last battle. “Besides, there’s no way anyone who would want to hurt you would ever be able to find you!”
Her Spirit’s airy gown swirled around her and the look that grew on her face was stern. The treetops in the Hall seemed to sway harder. But for all that swaying less and less sunlight escaped through--as if a storm was gathering over the throne room.
“Please, take much care and know that I, your Queen, command you to find me if ever such an unfortunate happening were to occur.” She commanded. Her voice was not rough. It did not become cold or hard, but it was steadfast and demanded attention.
“Yes, my Queen.” Never had FIlaFlis ever seen his Queen taken with such a fervor.
With that the baby at their feet awoke and she looked up with her shinning slate-colored eyes. There, very slowly, down the side of her face slid a tear. Another walkin dressed in red came to the baby and caught the tear with her finger. She placed it into a vial and was about to turn around.
“Marsial, please give that offering to FilaFlis.” The Queen’s Spirit said to the red-claded walkin. She did as she was instructed.
“This contains one single tear. It will aid you.” She pleaded.
Seeing that FilaFlis was still shocked by her actions, she calmly said “FilaFlis, much depends on you.” The room lightened as she said this, and a slight breeze came through the windows as if to wash the fear out of the Hall.
The King scanned forward to what had occurred right after he had stolen Rosana from the Wood Council. He hadn’t known the extent of the Queen Princess’s power and so made the mistake of leaving a blanket made of cotton in her room. At that time, the King had been spending a lot of time with the baby, not just to take care of the child, but more so because he had seen the Spirit of the Queen Princess tell this purple suited walkin, this FilaFlis, to find her. He remembered that he had been worried that the other tulendors would find out that he was responsible for the Queen Princess’ disaperance.
However, FilaFlis had finally found the Queen Princess, no matter how many times the King tried to forget it. The purple devil had snuck past the King’s guard by using the cotton blanket, and enabling him to accomplish the Queen Princess’s command.
“FilaFlis, you have come!” The Queen Princess was in a room that had no wood. Which confined the Queen Princess’ Spirit to her body.
“Yes, My Queen.” He looked about him in complete disgust. There was no wood to be seen anywhere. Only stone and a man sleeping in a chair an arms length away.
“Quickly! I have located the next King. You must use the teardrop I gave you. Do you have it?” Her Spirit was speaking very laboriously as if she were trying to speak, but had little air to breathe.
“Yes.” FilaFlis, pulled a velvet pouch out of his pocket and slipped the vial out. “Drink it now. Remember well to take care of this boy. He is, and will be, very special to me.” She commanded. A sliver of the Queen Princess’s Spirit rose up from the child’s arm and touched FilaFlis’ forehead with a gaunt finger.
This is what the King did not understand. The experience disappeared entirely from that moment on. He thought it had to do with the teardrop that the silly walkin had drunk.
All the King knew of what happened next was what had happened to himself. He had awoken in the chair and seen the purple little man standing on the cotton blanket. He had started towards the baby’s crib and snatched at the walkin, grabbing the blanket instead. The walkin had escaped into the blanket and into thin air. As the King had set the blanket on fire, several other walkins--sent from the Wood Council, coming to their Queen’s rescue--poured out of the blanket. The fire had consumed these walkins; but, instead of turning to dust, they had been cocooned into small glowing glass globes.
And now, during the child’s most recent sleep he found that the Queen Princess’s Spirit was contained by her surroundings in his stone castle. She could only be where her body was, and nothing else. She half wondered if that was how spirits of humans had to live all of their lives. She did have one escape. She could see what her walkins were doing and where each one was. The Dragon King saw this as a boon. He had hoped to maybe catch a glimpse of this walkin--this FilaFlis. She couldn’t speak to them, but she could see their minds. She was internalizing all of the sights and sounds that her walkins were experiencing, all except those that have become a part of a tulendor, of course. Then, to her shock and horror, she saw through one of her female walkins, one who was wearing a golden dress and sitting in a carriage across from a young lad not older than ten, a haze transform into the unmistakable image of the purple little man. FilaFlis! The King almost fell off his chair with excitement.
The Dragon King had found the next King of the King’s Crown! Through the Queen’s ability to see her walkins! He lost track of FilaFlis, but he followed the golden dressed walkin until the present moment and knew exactly where he should send the Silverstream.
Careful not to startle Djesal or the child with his excitement, he slowly stood up and put the chair back where he found it. “I must go. I just realized that I left Senao wandering down in the dungeon. Rosana, I am really sorry you lost your doll. Djesal would you be willing to take her for a walk? I think some air would do her some good.”
With that he strode to the door and went through it. He commanded the dragon outside the door to be his ride.
He climbed up on to the dragon’s back. “To the dungeons. With haste!” He commanded. The dragon ran as fast as its clawed feet could carry it. Through the halls, down the many flights of stairs. The animal fed off the excitement that was emanating from its rider. It was difficult for the Dragon King to stay seated on the dragon’s back, so he used his magic to make himself disappear and then reappear slightly to the left or the right and always forward--anticipating the dragon’s movement.
If he’d had the full strength of his magic, he would have just disappeared and reappeared in the Silverstream’s room, but it had been a long time since he had been able to do anything that taxing.
The Dragon King was directing the dragon to a wall in the back of the dungeon. As it approached, he leapt from the creature’s back, to come to a sliding stop in front of the wall.
There was a large mural on the wall of the very first Dragon King taming a wild dragon. He pressed on several blocks in the mural, and a door to the side swung open.
He walked through, onto a flight of stairs that took him even further down into the keeps underside. He followed the spiraling staircase until he came to a landing. In front of him was a heavy door. He had had this room rearranged so that he could hide his most secret weapon: the Silverstream.
“Silencestalker!” The King pounded on the door in front of him and opened it at the same time. He opened the door and with a flick of his hand, lit the sconces. He walked in to see all of the meanchin guards sprawled on the wooden floor. Dead. Ash was everywhere in the room--the air, the floor, the walls. Slightly disgusted at the scene, but ignoring it, he looked toward the pool of silver liquid in the floor. It moved with almost a contented fashion.
“Slinecestalker.” He said. “Mount your steed. We wait no more.”
