The swamp was glowing green in the moonlit night, the foul odor rising high among the dying trees. The Morytanian Forest was slowly degrading here into swampland, as it had been during Raldeir's rule six years earlier. Since Zaros had taken over, it had grown into a lush paradise.
Drakan scoffed. It made him sick. The forest was just too...bright. There was nothing like a bleak bog to cure the senses.
"Brother!" called Malak from tree line on the western flank of the camp. "He's coming!"
Drakan got up from the tree stump on which he sat and walked over to where Malak stood. Sure enough, the cloaked man was walking into the marsh.
"Master," said Drakan, bowing before the man. Malak followed his lead. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Just a report, Drakan," said the man, his cold voice more chilling than the midnight wind. "Sons of Raldeir, what are you doing now?"
"Just as you ordered, Master. We've been raising trouble in Kharyll to distract Zaros's forces."
"Not to mention forcing Zaros to move the capital to Senntisten," Malak added.
"That was four years ago," the man replied. "But good nonethless. My plan is proceeding at good pace. Zaros will have no choice but to notice us soon."
"What of Dessous?" Drakan asked.
"He is in Zaros's army," the man replied. "A Captain right now, but I should hope that he will become a General before long."
"Shall we continue, then, as we have, my Lord?" asked Drakan, growing tired of the conversation.
"No, Drakan," the man replied, a smile forming around his dark beard. "I have other plans for you, plans that will take you far beyond this swamp."
Drakan opened his eyes wide. "My Lord?"
"You and Malak. It is time you made yourselves known. You do want to reclaim for father's throne, correct?"
"Yes, My Lord," they responded in unison.
"If we follow my plan, we both get what we want. Remember that, Drakan." The man walked away. "I'll keep you posted." He was gone.
05-May-2008 02:42:50
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05-May-2008 02:43:18
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