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BARIN TOSSED ON HIS bed as he listened to the rain pounding on the patio outside. Flashes of white illuminated his armor as quickly as an eye can blink, while the rumble of thunder admonished him for weeks of indecisiveness. Down the hall his nephew cried. A servant’s shoes pattered past his room as she hurried to help the mother and child. Whether Maurice was simply afraid of the storm, or if he were having a seizure, Barin didn’t know. Nor did he care to find out. He understood the child’s misery well enough. The idea that maybe his nephew had been cursed by magic as Neal suggested made his stomach sick. How he might tackle that dilemma was beyond him.
Eventually the child quieted. The scent of rain oozed into his room and the violence of the storm had passed. He should have been able to sleep, but his thoughts kept him awake. With the trouble brewing in Kolada—a baron abusing his powers, a city rebelling, prisoners threatening to revolt, a captive he kept in chains who claimed he was innocent, and children suffering under a spell—how could he rest? These burdens were his to bear and the stress caused him to hallucinate, for there amid the curtains by the open window which rustled gently in the breeze, the likeness of a woman hovered. He closed his eyes and shook his head expecting the image to vanish once he opened his eyes again. When it didn’t, he tried to focus. Was he also going mad?
Not until the figure moved away from the rippling fabric did he realize someone had invaded his room. When she spoke, he sat up.
“King Barin,” she breathed, a whisper in a gentle voice and when she stepped forward, for a fleeting moment her soft golden hair and the way her gown clung to her shapely body enamored him. “I’ve come to give you warning.”
“Who are you?” Barin asked, his heart racing as he reached for his sword. “Who let you in the castle?”
“No one let me in. I bring no harm. Calm yourself and listen to me. You must release the man Jareth. He has answers for you.”
“Are you the devil?”
She laughed softly as she spoke. “No, not I. But there is a curse plaguing this kingdom. Jareth’s son is not the only one afflicted. There are young people throughout your kingdom being drawn away to the Neverworld. If you don’t stop this sorcery, they will form an army against you. Alas, the army is already formed. You have little time to prepare. You must do something soon.”
Barin swung his legs over the side of the bed, the weapon now in his hand. “I have little use for a woman sneaking into my bed chamber telling me my business.”
“I’m alerting you to the trouble that is already brewing.” The woman’s voice lowered in pitch, sounding like a man’s. She stepped back, her eyes on Barin’s weapon. “Don’t be angry at the messenger but rather hear the message! Listen to me, Barin son of Tobias.”
“I will listen to you when you are chained, and begging for mercy, maybe.” Barin pulled on his trousers under his chemise and moved for the door, getting a fresh hold on his weapon. “Guards!”
The woman retreated into the shadows and rattled on. “My name is Evanora. I’m from the northlands, Tuluva, Ogress, Kolada, the cities in revolt. I see these things. I’m a mage.” She stuttered as if unsure of herself. Any physical threat Barin feared had vanished, yet it wasn’t alarm that motivated him, but rage.
“A mage?” he snickered. It seemed unlikely, although he’d known insecure wizards before. His own wizard Kairos, for one. “Guards!” he called again as he cracked the door open.
“Who I am is insignificant. The news I bring is what’s important because you hold the only weapon against it.”
Barin scowled at the woman. “What weapon?”
Most people in the kingdom considered the sorcerer’s sword a legend, a fairy tale. Few knew it existed in reality. The sword had once been a ceremonial weapon of his father’s, not a trace of magic did it hold during his father’s reign until Arell, the son of Rolland took it with him to the caves to defeat the Dark Wizard. When the wizard died, the blade absorbed the magic and The Keeper—the dragon defending the caves of Mount Ream—blessed it. Kept safely in the dark cells under the castle, Barin swore it would never become exposed lest it fall into the wrong hands. How likely is it that an incompetent mage summons its use?
“I don’t know who you are to trust you,” Barin told the woman, watching her and at the same time minding the hall, waiting for his housecarl to take her away.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t have had a more formal introduction, but this matter is urgent. Jareth’s wife is on her way to see you, along with a woman you know. I beseech you to listen to Lorica. Be especially watchful of the other. Know that the sword of the Dark Wizard is your only hope.”
“That’s absurd. You mention the Neverworld, sorcery, and speak of a weapon that few men know exist. Who would know of such things if not the devil himself?”
“I am here to warn you. That’s all.” The woman trembled and backed toward the window.
“Do not leave this room. You’re being detained!” Barin commanded as two Potamian sentries stormed into the room.
But when he commanded his soldiers to apprehend her, she had vanished with only rustling curtains suggesting the route she took. A sentry glanced out the window.
“Nothing, Vasil.”
“Search the premises,” Barin ordered.