Westport Manor…

“Guilty. The verdict is guilty.” The Lord Magistrate announced. 

“The Figureheads are in agreement then?” Abba Gideon Benedict asked as he looked around the room. 

Devon followed his eyes as he met the gazes of the elders assembled in the room. The Lord Commander nodded his head. He was a confident man wearing polished armor cut with intricate swirls of flame emanating from the central sunburst on his chest. He is armed with a longsword, equally intricate with a large ruby set in the center of its matching sunburst design etched into the pommel. His short dark hair rested above a face with piercing dark eyes. His face was stoic. Unfeeling. He nodded in affirmation. 

“The vote is guilty… Abba Gideon, but should not the boy’s age be considered? The crime is grave indeed but Magister Crowley speaks highly of the boy’s talent. Could he not still be redeemed?” Devon found it odd to hear Justicar Marcus speak on his behalf. The High Justicar had always been the heavy hand of the council. He enforced the laws and Devon had certainly stretched the boundaries of a few. Nothing serious mind you, but he seemed to have a knack for getting into places he wasn’t supposed to be. Marcus had removed him from those very places on several occasions, always a stern talk before returning him to the care of Magister Crowley. 

“I do not care that he is only twelve. He’s a murderer! We all agree on that fact and I demand justice!” screamed the mayor, his voice cracking with rage and sorrow. “My wife! What he did to my wife! A life for a life! He’s man enough to kill, he’s man enough to die!” Mayor Chadwick was a broken man. His normally cherubic round face was contorted with pain. He had hatred in his red swollen eyes and tears streamed uncontrollably. He spat as he spoke, shaking and pointing at the young accused. Devon felt terrible for the man, like he wanted to console him. He knew it was pointless however. No one believed him. Abba Gideon had found him in the Mayor’s home leaning over the mayor’s wife. Devon held the dagger and his hands were soaked with her blood. What else could he think? 

“Hells.” Devon thought, “I would have found me guilty.” He almost felt like he was. 

“Lord Mayor” Magister Crowley spoke in a calm soothing tone. “While it is true the boy has a bit of mischief in his blood, I refuse to believe him a killer. In fact, he is quite the dutiful young apprentice. He has always been a respectful student. Unfortunately, as his counsel I am forbidden from voting or….”  

“Enough Joan! I will hear no more. The verdict is decided, now to his fate. Execution! Yes, that is my will!” Mayor Chadwick was trembling. His anxious hands rolled and gripped together so tightly that his knuckles turned white.  

“I oppose such action!” A booming voice interjected. Chieftain Thorin of the Vella Plains had long been an ally to the Port, so much so he was given a seat amongst the figureheads, the first from the Barbarian Horde. He was also the father of Devon’s friend Gunther. He was the only father figure he had known. Devon couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. He could feel his disappointment, sadness and anger washing over him as he spoke. “Exile. Yes. Exile the boy to the wild. Let the spirits decide if he lives.” He turned toward Abba Gideon as if prompting him to speak. 

“Exile to the wild could prove to be a most prolonged and painful death good Chieftain. Would you really consider that a mercy? The boy would starve to death if he managed not to be eaten that long. Is that….” 

The room grew cold as if the morning sun had been stolen from the sky and all its warmth with it.  

“I believe this Council forgets the laws. He has claimed a life… now… his life is mine to claim.” It was a woman’s voice, emotionless and serious. It seemed to come from nowhere yet everywhere. Then she appeared as if born from the shadows.  

Devon heard stories, actually whispers about the Nightmistress. She is from Sanguinar, a village to the northeast also allied with the Port. The Sanguinari are a frightening folk, practitioners of blood magic. Legends say they even feed on the blood of others. It is said no one taken by the Nightmistress ever returns. Only those convicted of the most heinous crimes suffered that fate. Devon wondered, “Would they really…” 

“Nightmistress Selene Blacklotus, you honor us with your presence.” Abba Gideon almost smirked. “I would ask you to defer your claim. I believe the Chieftain has motioned for us to consider exile.” 

“Take him! Yes!” The mayor growled, “Do whatever it is your people do with murderers. Make it hurt. Make it last!” Mayor Chadwick was smiling maniacally. 

“Lady Blacklotus has a valid claim”, Justicar Marcus announced. He looked sadly upon Devon and said, “Sorry child.”, then quickly looked away. 

“You can’t” gasped Magister Crowley. “He’s but a boy Marcus!” She was a kindly middle-aged woman. Pleasant yet stern. Barely taller than 5 feet, the Magister had soft brown eyes that twinkled with wisdom. They surged with power now. 

Selene turned toward the magister and for the first time Devon was able to look directly at her. She was strikingly beautiful. Ink black hair framed her face and glowing blue eyes flashed malevolently above her high cheekbones. She seemed pale as if she had not once walked in the sunlight. She stared at Magister Crowley and he could feel a foreboding sense of dread creep into the room. It was like Death was breathing on everyone assembled as the hall grew colder still. He could see the figureheads becoming unsettled. Even Magister Crowley aswirl in magic took a step back. 

Chieftain Thorin leapt from his seat with his battle axe in hand and spit, “What witchcraft is this?” Selene turned to meet him. The Chieftain stood well over 6 feet, better than two heads taller than she. Muscular and wrapped in hides, he was an imposing man. The Nightmistress was unafraid. The Chief howled, “I won’t let you have him creature. I’d sooner see him die by my axe before allowing you to take him!” 

“You would see him dead then. Is that your wish, Chieftain?” Selene had an almost sardonic drawl in her tone. “By all means, strike him down.” She stepped to the side and motioned her hand offering him a clear path to the boy. “He deserves no less.”  She all but goaded him. 

Devon could see the fury rising into the Chieftain’s face. Crimson color replaced his plains born tan. He was panting as rage and anger filled him. “There are worse things than death woman! You are proof of that!”  

“Compliments will not alter the circumstances, good Chieftain. The Council of Figureheads have found him guilty by unanimous vote. His punishment now falls to me. It is my right by law and treaty to take him.” 

“I did not agree to this priest!” The Chieftain scowled at Abba Gideon. 

Selene turned her head toward Abba Gideon almost inquisitively and her eyes glowed bluer still. It was midsummer yet the room was cold as a winter’s eve. The Nightmistress spoke, “He’s better off with me.” She turned her head back to look at the Chieftain and spoke softly, her eyes sparkling ice blue, “You must trust me Thorin. If you care for the boy at all you will not challenge my claim.” 

“Yes, trust her barbarian! Trust she will bleed him dry! Take him and be gone!” wailed the mayor. 

Thorin raised his axe and swung hard at the table. It splintered under the mighty blow streaming wood shards about the room. He shoved past Abba Gideon and headed for the double doors. He ignored the handles smashing the oaken panels as well. Pieces of door blew past the archway of the main hall and landed in the road. The guards posted outside were forced to dive for cover. They scrambled to regain their feet and reached for their swords. The Chieftain roared in anger, then stormed off to his horses.

“If there are no further objections…” The Nightmistress turned her attention to Magister Crowley. 

The Magister held a hand in front of her mouth. She had begun to tremor. Devon knew she worried about him but this show of emotion was unusual for the pragmatic mentor who had been teaching him the arcane arts. “If he is ill-treated…” Her voice cracked and she paused. She steadied herself and continued, “His blood is pure Selene. You must see it. You know it to be true.” 

The Nightmistress stared back at Magister Crowley, the eerie glow in her eyes fading before she broke away. The room seemed to warm. Justicar Marcus had shackles in his hand. 

“I’ll iron the boy Lady.” he said in a low tone. 

“Unnecessary Marcus. You will not run, will you child?” She looked at him. Stern Serious. Deadly. 

“No ma’am, err, Lady… I mean Mistress.” Devon lowered his head and stared at the floor. 

“It’s good to see a young one taught manners. You do Magister Crowley much honor.”

“Thank you Mistress.” Devon responded politely.

Selene grinned. “Have you no fear of me child? Do you know what the Sanguinari do with murderers?” 

“No Mistress. I’m not afraid.” He lied as he fought to meet her eyes. They were the bluest of blue, like azure pools, calm and comforting. “Magister Crowley would expect no less of me. And I cannot pretend to know the customs of Sanguinar.” 

“You ‘ll learn both soon enough. Say your goodbyes child, it may be your last opportunity to make peace with these … people.”  

Magister Crowley hurried over and hugged him. His face was full of emotion as if he wanted to cry. Contrary to what he had said to the Nightmistress, he was terrified. Devon knew she could protect him, save him from whatever horrible fate awaited him. She was a powerful mage. Would she really let this happen? The Magister looked at him, her eyes sad like a mother losing her son to some incurable illness and said “Go Devon. You’ll be fine.” It was the first time he had ever heard her lie to him. Devon turned toward the door and walked. Outside Gunther was pacing. He was nearly as enraged as the Chieftain, who had already unhitched their horses and looked ready to leave the Port for the plains.

“You’re no killer Devon. I don’t believe it.” he growled “Father promised… He said you wouldn’t be…”

Devon stopped him. “You’re a good friend Gunther. I’ll miss you.”

Abba Gideon walked past the two boys announcing, “That’s enough Gunther. These proceedings are concluded. Your father is waiting.”

Jarath walked over and hugged his friend. The two youths had always been close, having similar upbringing in local institutions. Jarath was given to the church whereas Devon had been taken in by the academy of magic. They were like brothers. He let his condemned friend go and said, “You’ll be back brother. I feel it. Heironeous will see justice done.” 

“Unlikely.” Abba Gideon interrupted. “Justice and duty have already been served my boy. All that remains is sacrifice.”, he said with a smug grin. “Back to the church with you.” 

Jarath looked at Abba Gideon then back to his friend, “Blessings upon you and may the Archpaladin protect you.” He turned away, making for the temple he called home. 

Stallac had been posted at the door. He was in training with the town militia and was under the command of the Lord Commander. He broke away from his post and said, “I’ll find the real killer. We’ll come for you. Just hold fast.” He grabbed Devon’s forearm and Devon his, a show of the respect and friendship they shared. 

Devon looked around. “What would happen now?” He thought to himself. Then his eyes found Holly. The two had met at the academy of magic. They had spent so much time together they seemed inseparable. He knew she liked him. He felt like he was falling in love with her. They had been out that night walking. Broke curfew….his head ached and the memories faded. Where did Holly go that night? How did he get the blood on himself? His head swam and he began to feel nauseous. Holly must have seen him turning color and yelled… 

“Devon!” She ran over and he fell into her arms. She pleaded with Selene, “He’s not well. Let him rest before you go. One day. Just one day.” Tears flooded her face. Her gentle brown eyes were bloodshot and her long brown hair was twisted and matted. She had been nervously twirling and knotting it while she waited to hear news of the trial. 

A rough grab straightened him up. “He’s fine” Selene scolded as the air grew chill.

Magister Crowley saw the exchange and walked over slowly, staring at the Nightmistress. She grabbed Holly by the hand and backed her away. The young girl was crying again. Magister Crowley was mouthing words, an incantation of arcane power. Devon knew it was a protection enchantment. She meant to fight. He decided he needed to go now before someone else was hurt because of him. He felt as if he had done enough harm. 

Devon turned to Selene and calmly said, “I’m ready.” She looked at Magister Crowley and tightened her grip on the back of his neck. He could feel sharp talons press against his skin but they did not cut. He mouthed goodbye to Holly who was near hysterical. Suddenly the street faded. In an instant they were drowning in shadows. The world had gone black. 

Holly collapsed crying, screaming. It was all the Magister could do to get her to her feet.  

 “Well stop standing there with your mouth open catching flies boy.” She called to Stallac. “Help me get her home.”  

“I….my post…the Lord Commander….” The Lord Commander put his hand on his shoulder and just nodded. He rushed over and grabbed her. She was sobbing. Barely breathing. All she could say was no. They were going to have to carry her back to the tower. It wasn’t a far walk. The tower stood a short distance away from the court house. But Stallac was with the Magister and the most powerful magic user in the Port had no intention of walking anywhere. As soon as he had Holly steady, Magister Crowley spoke words that he couldn’t understand. In a flash, they were in a bedroom. 

“Sona.” the Magister said as she placed her hand on Holly’s forehead. The sobbing stopped and she seemed to go limp in his arms. “Lay her in the bed boy. She’ll sleep for a while. She is going to need the rest.” 

As Stallac placed her on the bed, he could hear her sniffle as she slept. Even through the power of the spell she was under, her grief caused her to fidget. The look of sadness on the Magister’s face echoed what they all were feeling. 

“Thank you Stallac” she said quietly. “You’ll need to return to the Lord Commander. I’m sure he has work for you.”  

“Work? Oh of course Magister. Yes Ma’am.” He hurried down the spiral stairwell and left the tower taking the short run back to the courthouse and the Lord Commander.

Devon felt cold, like he couldn’t breathe. It seemed to go on forever before light began to break through the darkness. He pushed his head forward gasping for breath as if he had been under water too long and now, just barely managed to break the surface. Devon fell to his knees choking. The ground was cold and the earth dark. As his eyes cleared, he could see they weren’t in the Port anymore. He regained his footing and stood. Looking around he saw that they had arrived at the edge of a graveyard. Directly before them was an enormous black iron gate attached to a long stone wall that snaked on both sides of the entry. 

Selene paused for a moment lowering her gaze. Her voice was firm, “Stay close. Welcome to Sanguinar.”