I hope everyone is having a good week. I certainly am, I woke up for work yesterday to realize that I don’t start teaching for Summer 2 until next week. So hello week off! In addition, I am no longer on strategy games, I get to actually teach web design. I’m very excited.

As discussed yesterday, tonight regular TNS posts continue, with a brand new podcast to go with it! If my iTunes picks up the podcast feed, I’ll submit it to the iStore this evening (wanted to test that first). So hopefully TNS be on there by next week. I love new endeavors, we’ll see how this one goes. Be thinking about friends who like fantasy, I would very much appreciate all the word-of-mouth subscribers I can get.

Audio version narrated by David Carroll:

As always, I hope you enjoy the story.

Darren nearly choked on his drink when the man walked through the door. For three years he’d waited for it, but even so, he couldn’t begin to believe it was really happening.  The Lord Braydon Suleth casually walking in was enjoyably awkward to him.  The whole room stared in startled silence without recognition.  It brought Darren great pleasure to see the man get such an ill welcome.  Even as his lips twisted into a wicked smile, the room erupted in cheers.  Instead, he snarled.

Without a word to his companions, he rose and walked to the door. All around him was warm welcomes and calls for stories of Lord Braydon’s great deeds.  It made him sick to his stomach just thinking about it. The fake hero gave him a quick glance as he passed, but the man obviously wrote him off as unimportant. The fool, he would soon learn different.

He had half a mind to take the man’s horse when he left. There was no mistake guessing which it was. The enormous creature made all the other horses pale in comparison. The war horse moved threateningly upon approach.  Well, it was just a thought anyway. Darren untied his own horse and took off at a full gallop away from the village.

Over the years Darren had grown to like the people of Malorn. What did the return of the war hero mean for the people there? Surely Zydala wouldn’t wait long. It made him even angrier at the man, his selfishness in putting all those people in danger. What did it matter if he was aware of it or not?

Many miles later, Darren saw the wooden mansion amidst the trees ahead of him. It was a pathetic sight. Ten years ago, the Order of Tykaron had a home in every major city from sea to sea. Each was an awe inspiring structure of stone, marveled at by the world, worshipers and not alike. Now they were reduced to this, this crumbling wooden ruin of a home.

The structure was all that remained of an old motte-and-bailey castle. The thing had been deserted a long time ago. It was a work in progress for those of the faith unwilling to give up their beliefs, as it had been for the last four years. Few of them were architects, so the progress went slowly.

It was Darren’s opinion they should recruit, to show the world that the Order was not afraid of their false accusations. It was Lord Braydon that begun the campaign that spread those rumors and eradicated Darren’s people. Every ruler in this part of the world believed when the man said the Order was using top members to influence control of them through sorcery. By the end of it, every official of their Order had been tortured and executed, except for Zydala. Tortured yes, but she was not executed. No others escaped to tell the horrors of what had been done, but Zydala told stories. She was the head of their Order now. The only official left to them. That was to say she escaped in body at least, something had happened to her mind none-the-less. Darren felt she had become increasingly unpredictable as of late.

Darren walked through the door and was immediately cornered. Caroline spoke first, “Zydala demands your presence, Acolyte. You know you had no right to leave the grounds tonight.” There was a satisfaction in her voice that he assumed to be from getting the first word.

“She’s not happy, Darren. You shouldn’t have left again. You go too far sometimes.” Amery had a look of compassion unseen in the other two.

“Do not be weak with him, Amery,” Peter snapped. “This is his mistake and he should both feel bad about it and accept whatever punishment goes with it.”

“Very well, then, take me to her.” He said with all the confidence he could muster. Amery smiled proudly, making it all the more worth it. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. He was an acolyte, one of the youngest members of the Order, and Amery had three years on him. Some said he was already more powerful than many in much higher standing. Including all three standing before him, he noted. Among them, only Amery didn’t hold that fact against him.

In other ways, being different was good. Despite the trouble he got into constantly, they were reluctant to get rid of someone of his ability. So he let them take him to Zydala with as much pride as his fear would allow. He even managed to smile on the way. After the news he had today, she would forever hold him in her favor. He was sure of it.

The three fell behind as he approached the door; even they were weary of Zydala’s behavior lately. He opened it quietly and slipped inside so his followers would not be able to see anything. The door clicked shut behind him.

The room was a dull blue from the various glowing spheres spread around. A writing table had various papers, but there was little else out of place. A shrill voice broke the silence. “You did once again what I have forbidden!” A powerful and unseen blow lifted him completely off his feet and knocked him hard against the wall. Small specs of darkness floated in his vision as he tried to regain his senses. It was all he could do to not pass out from the pain.

Darren fell to his knees in subservience. “Forgive me, Mistress! I did it only for you!”

“For me, you say,” the voice mused mockingly, “you expect me to believe such a tale?”

“It is no tale. Tonight Lord Braydon Suleth arrived in Malorn. I wished to be the one to bring you such wonderful news.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was close enough. He hoped.

His body lifted off the ground and flew across the room until he was standing in front of Zydala. She never moved a muscle, but she could sweep him around the room like a child throwing a rag doll. It was unnerving to say the least.

“What danger have you put us in, my sweet little Darren? He saw you this night? Did you bring him down upon us all?” Her screech was deafening as he flew backwards again, this time smashing through the door to her study. He tried to scream out that he did not do what she accused, that he had not been noticed at all, but there was no chance for it.

“We shall see by dawn, foolish child! Leave my sight this instant.” She screamed the words at him. Surely anyone close by heard the altercation. Tears were streaming down his face as he got up, bleeding and bruised.

He turned to go as her screeches became maniacal laughter. Faintly he heard her say, almost in a whisper, “So, I may get my revenge yet.” He ran to his room, confused and hurt. After all this time, surely this was about more than just her revenge… wasn’t it?