The Shadowy Path - 27. Epilogue

The blonde woman
Vendum, Grand Duchy of Malkania, around the time of the Spring Day celebrations

With languid movements of her hands, a woman sitting in a high-backed armchair stroked the hem of her silk dressing gown. She was a very beautiful woman. Her long golden hair fell in a delicate curl over her shoulders. There was a particular sweetness to her face, but it was tainted by the hard, penetrating gaze of her blue eyes and the mocking smile that occasionally curled the corners of her mouth.

It was difficult to guess her age. She might have been thirty-five or even fifty, but the years had not managed to erase the beauty from her face. Her body, covered by a dressing gown, had more the shape of a young woman rather than an old one. The open front also revealed a bosom that was more bouncy than the sagging one of old age.

The fireplace was lit, although the room was heated by radiators placed under the windows. Music came from the loudspeakers, but apart from the woman in the armchair, no one within a hundred miles could identify the melody or make out the words of the song. It was ancient Shadaarian, which sounded like a strange dialect of the common language spoken on the continent today.

Hopefully, she corrected herself - no one within a hundred miles recognised the tune. But the momentary concern quickly faded from her mind. The others were hardly near. Besides, she was not afraid of many of them. A little cautious, but not afraid.

Despite the time of year, the servants had managed to get fresh fruit for their mistress. She picked a peach from a platter on an end table, but quickly realised it was badly wilted. Golden bracelets chinked as she dropped the fruit on the floor beside the table.

Good staff were so hard to find these days, even though she only used followers as servants. Well, after this mistake, there might be one servant less. Or would she let the old sluggard keep his head and just cut off a finger or two as a warning to the others? Perhaps the decision could be left to someone else. There was no point in bothering with the servants' affairs, let the underlings deal with the punishment among themselves.

Especially in these times, it was not worth dwelling on trivialities. Being able to read the signs, she knew that the world was at the dawn of a new era. The red comet would brighten soon, as foretold. After that, it would not be long before the Black Flame would shimmer over all of humanity.

She would be at the forefront as the Darkness marched on to final victory. Let the others light the fire and feed it. She herself was in no hurry. It was better to be ready when the enemy's final nightfall would come, rather than to waste her strength too early.

Eistaf and Lufudon probably had different tactics, she had heard. If they were to wear themselves out in meaningless battles, then she could take their place in the limelight. It would not be easy, but the blonde woman relished the challenge.

She touched her lower lip with her polished thumbnail and took another peach from the platter. So beautifully yellow, like the radiant sun, she thought, and lost herself in the past.

Gravenhild's Sunshine - that's what her admirers used to call her. Those most powerful men of Malkania and Andiol had worshipped and pampered her to the point of exhaustion. They had organized great balls to entertain her and promised anything for a kiss.

What a pleasure it had been to rule over those lovelorn noblemen. To pit rivals against each other, to use them to her own benefit and then cast them aside as useless.

She, Mocvann Gravenhild, could have lived like that forever. Unfortunately, Anden and Zal had begun to have doubts and ask questions. They had been forced to launch the plan sooner than they had intended and bring the Brotherhood to its doom.

Mocvann took a bite from the peach. The sweet juice moistened her lips and the flesh of the fruit chewed to a suitably soft texture in her mouth. Perhaps the servant would survive after all.

The telephone on the table rang. Mocvann picked up the receiver. It was a much more pleasant way of keeping in touch with her henchmen than to have to watch them crawl in front of her. The technology from the Age before the Oblivion was handy, but woefully inconvenient to use in today's world. Knowing that many Malkanian lords could only dream of such a device warmed Mocvann's heart. Her position gave her certain privileges, and she took full advantage of them.

At the other end of the line, a familiar male voice greeted her respectfully, but with such obscene urgency that Mocvann was already contemplating punishment. There was a reason for the servant's haste, however, for the news he was delivering changed everything.

It was the knowledge that Mocvann had been searching for fifteen years. She had waited in silence, having long since lost faith in her hopes. And now, in an instant, after all these long years, it was true. She, who had always been able to control herself flawlessly, now jumped up out of sheer enthusiasm.

Mocvann asked the man countless questions, repeating many of them several times. Then she gave orders and then asked more questions. The sources were reliable enough to believe the news was true. Besides, her subordinates knew better than to approach her with mere rumours. Still, from time to time, some tried to extort a reward from her with gossip that turned out to be false. Such misleaders never met an easy death.

The call was long, but by the end of it, Mocvann was fully convinced that the news was true. The servant at the other end of the line will be royally rewarded, as will those who helped him with the information. In general, Mocvann used to reward successes. She knew that money could be a motivator for better performance as well as a punishment.

Mocvann knew she could be harsh or even cruel, but never arbitrary in her decisions. Both in rewarding and punishing, she had to be consistent and sometimes even fair. That was something the others seemed to lack. In that, too, she was ahead of them.

When she finally hung up, she realised that she had accidentally squashed the peach to a pulp in her fist. Mocvann let the mess of fruit fall to the floor and wiped her hands on a white napkin, which she placed on the floor next to the peaches. She sat back in her chair and began to think feverishly.

Revenge. She would take revenge, but it should not be the first thing on her mind. Dannkas would meet his fate and it would not be easy. Mocvann would torture that traitor to death, very slowly, perhaps for years, savouring every moment. But Dannkas' future death by torture was only a subplot in a development brought about by the news. The focus was on another person, blissfully unaware of what the woman in the high-backed chair was planning.

Mocvann closed her eyes and said a prayer to Nalvajda: "Mistress of Lies, you who walk in darkness and blind the sun with your intrigues. So much have you given me, the humblest of your servants, but I still need much from you. Grant me the strength to reach my goal, for it is your satisfaction. You know what I desire, so bless my path. May the blood sacrifice on your altar be a token of my gratitude, O Mistress of Lies."

She breathed heavily for a moment. Talking to Nalvajda always drained her vitality, but fatigue was a small price to pay for what could be achieved by serving the mighty goddess. In the future, she would have to show gratitude more lavishly to Mistress of Lies. Perhaps this time the blood sacrifice could be something better than a rabbit or a weasel.

Yes! Today she would send an experienced hunter who would have no trouble stealing an infant from the arms of a poor mother. Nalvajda was said to be particularly fond of newborn blood. Mocvann would sacrifice an innocent child to the Darkness. Perhaps Mistress of Lies would show her satisfaction by bestowing her the good fortune in the hunt that was about to begin.

Mocvann Gravenhild picked up the receiver again. It was time to prepare for the journey east. Until a moment ago, she had thought that she would be left out of the early rounds of the great battle. The phone call had been an enormous change, and with it she would make her key move much sooner than she had anticipated. Fortunately, Mocvann was quick to adapt to the new circumstances. When the game finally came to an end, she would sit on a throne and rule the world.

First, however, that world had to be drowned in a maelstrom that would sweep the current order into the deepest tunnels of damnation. Oh, how she would enjoy watching the destruction of her enemies!

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