[Amanaduial the archer]

In rooms darkened by the storm outside, all was still in Zamara's quarters. But all was not peaceful. Sudden bursts of lightning shattered the stillness of the room and sent the veils across the wide windows streaming wildly, and the only other illumination came from a dim lamp beside the bed where a figure lay stretched, her form strewn across the mattress under the thin covers. She lay perfectly still, even her breathing barely visible, and the acolytes had left her: indeed, she lay as still and as alone as the dead...

A shadow stirs...darkness incarnate, it moves with the slow inevitability of evil through the sparsely furnished rooms: it knew the way to the Priestess's quarters. The doors are rarely locked...it knows it's way...

Zamara stirred slightly, her eyelids flickering across as her blind gaze trace the ceiling fitfully.

Past the painting of the trees, the symbol of Rhais. The shadow hesitates, pausing for a moment as it looks towards the one, central tree which stands defiantly tall, stretching across the whole wall. One hand - and it is indeed a hand, for this creature appears humanoid - stretches out towards the wall, faltering slightly as it reaches towards the ruby at the centre of the knot of the tree's roots.

Her breathing was shallower now, and her lips moved slightly, as if mouthing silent words: but no words that would be recognised by any Pashtian - except maybe the elves. These are words brought from a faraway land, brought across the seas by a brave people following the gods they knew to be true against a dark unknown evil; a people who also believed in the significance of one tree...

Otso eleni ar otso ondor
ar minë ninquë alda.

The statue turns it's head towards the room of the High Priestess, cocking it slightly to the side in a bestial motion as if listening for the very movement of her thoughts. In the dark shadow of it's face, it grins, if a silhouette can grin; and in one fierce motion plunged it's hand towards the ruby-red stone at the base of the tree-

"Rhais!"

Zamara's scream formed the one single word as the lightning flashed and she sat up suddenly, her eyes wide in terror, the covers clenched tightly around her chest. In the lightning's illumination they seemed to burn a bright, unnatural blue, the blue of a different world across the desert. She stared straight forward, her terrified, ragged breathing the only human sound to be heard against the constant pounding of the rain, then a sound caught her attention, a sound from her chambers outside. Her eyes flickered across and, despite her fear, the fear of a little girl afraid of the storm, the Priestess whirled out of bed in a sudden motion, grabbing the oil lamp from the side in shaking hands and stumbling out of the door into the main room of the chambers. She waved the lamp high, it's flame flickering, a small defence against the darkness.

"I know you are in here!" she called, her voice ragged and hoarse. "You, the enemy of the elves, the bringer of darkness upon my people - leave! Leave here now! You do not scare me, and you do not scare my goddess! The 'Huntress of Rhais' will drive you out!"

The darkness seemed to grow around Rhais, and she could feel something coming towards her. Stumbling backwards, the light of her little lamp faltering, Zamara held up her free hand, shaking though it was, and stared fiercely into the space ahead of her: she could feel a prescence, no matter what her eyes were telling her. Her shaking hands dropped the lamp and it spluttered on the floor, but she continued to hold the ruby medallion in front of her as the thunder and lightning tore at her sight and sound, and she yelled once more: "You do not scare me!"

"High Priestess!"

Zamara's wild gaze spun around the the entrance to her rooms. But no demon stood there - just the reassuring figure of Tayfar, frozen in shock. The acolyte rushed forward to her mistress's side, leaving the door open as she did so - and unnoticed by both women, something slipped out, spreading it's darkness into the night. Zamara was hunched against the wall, wearing only a thin slip beside the ruby medallion, and she seemed terrified to Tayfar. As the girl tried to coax her upright and away from the wall, she caught a sudden glimpse of Zamara's eyes, and almost let go of the older woman: they shone blue. In an instant the effect was gone, and Tayfar blinked quickly against it. Looking at the woman in wonder, she murmured, "What happened?"

Zamara's breathing was calmer now, and she loosened her grip on the medallion although she kept a tight grip on Tayfar's hands. Meeting the girl's eyes, she replied, "Light the candles and lamps. All of them, throughout the temple." Tayfar nodded and made to go, but Zamara stopped her. "No! Just...just around my rooms for now."

Slowly easing her fingers off Tayfar's hand, the Priestess took several deep breaths to steady herself and flexed her fingers to relieve the stiffness from being so tightly clenched: looking at her palms in wonder, she saw that they were marked with four little crescent markings each - her nails had dug in so tightly that they had almost cut into the skin. Feeling a spin of woozyness, she touched her forehead lightly and, bringing her hand back down, saw blood on her fingers. The events of the evening came back to her: Morgos coming to the temple, his questions, the statue falling, he pushing her out of the way...and nothing.

"Morgos - where is he?"

"The General, the elf?" Tayfar shook her head. "I'm not sure, Priestess. He was taken away by the healers I think - but he's a dangerous being, that elf: he pushed you right to the floor, knocked you out. Dangerous..." Tayfar shook her head, shaking out the match as she lit the last of the candles.

Zamara frowned. Knocked her out? No...Morgos had been angry, but.... She shook her head, trying to clear out the muzzy cotton wool that confused her thoughts. She couldn't clearly remember anything, of her conversation with the elf, of what had happened when the statue was pushed over, or of her dream...yes, her dream. Closing her eyes tightly, the priestess tried to remember, but nothing seemed to stand out - nothing but one face. Bekah's. But what had she to do with any of this...

"Bekah - I mean, the Queen, was she at the temple when Morgos was?"

Tayfar hesitated. Zamara could not see her expression as her back was to her, but she sensed the acolyte's anxiousness. She turned around slowly, walking to Zamara, her face anxious and saddened. Taking her hand, she said quietly, "Queen Bekah has been murdered, Zamara."

Zamara looked at her in incomprehending confusion. Her lips moved silently for a second, her expression changing rapidly, her face falling, as her unblinking eyes searched Tayfar's face. "Murdered?" she whispered. Tayfar nodded silently, tears coming to her own eyes as they came to Zamara's. The priestess's hands twisted into tight fists as they fell to her sides, and she shook her head as she turned away from Tayfar, heading towards the balcony. "No...no, it cannot be..."

"She was found outside her apartments earlier this evening, Zamara. She had been strangled-"

"No!" Zamara's drawn out yell echoed across the city, a mourning cry that sent a shiver through the dark and deserted streets. She stood hunched over the balcony for several moments, her fingers curled white-tight around the rail, not heeding the rain and the wind that howled around her. After a minute she turned around again having finally regained her composure, but Tayfar could not tell if it was tears or rain that streaked her face so. She spoke quietly, calmly, a woman trying to keep control as the reins spun out of her reach.

"Tayfar, get me my robe and cloak, and my staff. We are to go to the palace immediately, but - are there any guards on the Temple doors?"

"No, High Priestess, they were recalled to the palace-"

"We shall have to risk it then." Zamara's voice was grim as she cut over the end of Tayfar's sentence. "Every light in the Temple is to be lit: every candle, every lamp, every torch - everything. And prayers - prayers sent and incense burned, the very finest. I know it is hardly perfect, but Bekah is to be honoured as she deserves - there is to be nothing spared, do you understand?" Tayfar nodded mutely and turned into Zamara's room to fetch her things. Zamara turned her head and stared into the grey, empty streets, before she added one last note. "One more thing, Tayfar: none of you are to do anything alone. Do you understand me? None of you are to do anything alone, and certainly you are not to leave the temple. Spread that message." Her eyes burned fiercely as she straightened up, glaring into the night at an invisible foe. "They will have none of my priestesses or acolytes..."