Darkness Rising

Mercurio sat on the cliff edge, looking down on the town below. In his hands he held the poppet, slowly turning it over and over between his fingers. He felt a stirring deep within himself. The infection was like a tiny voice calling out across an ocean of noise. It joined with other voices, drawing him toward them, just as they were drawn to him. Banes, others like him, even the King himself-he could feel all of them, but just barely. It felt as if he were seeing them through a thick fog.

He needed more. More Rot. Until the voice in his mind grew into a mighty beacon, calling all who would listen to bow before him. He wondered what fate would befall this unsuspecting settlement if he stayed here long enough, drawing in monsters and misfortune. How long before the taint seeping from him spelled doom for everyone around him. The thought amused him briefly, to stay and watch the town burn or fall to pestilence and decay. But he needed to move on. He needed to nurture the corruption growing within until it was ready to truly flourish.

He put the poppet away and tilted his head to one side with a small grin. "You can come out now."

There was a hiss of air and Mercurio found a broad, razor sharp falchion pressed against his throat. The face of his assailant slid into view at the edge of his vision. "Well done. Not many people ever hear me coming. Not that it really makes a difference."

Mercurio slowly pushed the blade away from himself with a single fingertip and got to his feet. "Then I take it you're not here to kill me." He turned to look at the other rat.

She wore a dull grey-green dress with a gold, floral patterned hem. Over the dress was a long coat of stiff, dark red leather that was held loosely closed by red laces across her chest. Her hands were covered by long leather gloves that went up a little way past the elbow, and a matching hood protected her head and neck. Her ears protruded from the back of the hood, as did her long, dark brown hair, which was bunched into a tail by a simple silver hoop. A teardrop shaped brass and ruby charm hung from a leather band on her tail, that tinkled slightly as she moved. Sky blue eyes watched Mercurio carefully from under her hood.

"Zosha the Whirlwind, I presume?"

"Correct." Zosha gave a mock bow. She held her coat open for a moment, revealing a thick, black belt fastened with a large, claw shaped silver clasp. She slipped her falchion through the belt by her left hip, opposite its twin.

"Your reputation precedes you."

"As does yours." Zosha paced back and forth a little way, stretching lavishly, every movement measured to seem perfectly relaxed while keeping every muscle tensed to act. "Baron Mercurio, the Grinning Blade. The dashing rogue who went from street urchin to aristocrat before he was twenty years old. Such a gripping tale of cunning, romance and back alley skulduggery." She stopped in front of Mercurio again and tapped him on the nose, "But who could have known his dark secret? That he was actually one of the most prominent agents of The Order of the Thorn."

Mercurio swiped her hand away from his face and took a few steps along the cliff edge without turning his back on her. "I assume there's some point you're getting to?"

Zosha turned away with an airy chuckle, "You know who I serve."

"A decrepit witch who controls the Clan through fear and deceit."

Zosha glanced back over her shoulder, ignoring the obvious barb, "The Night Mother is very interested in you, Mercurio."

"And what exactly does she want?"

"Why, the only thing of any true value, of course. Information. What is the Order's sudden interest in the Rot? Why didn't you report back with your companions? And what did you learn during your stint as Lord Steward?"

"You seem like a bright girl." Mercurio sneered, "I'm sure you'll find out one way or another." He made to push past Zosha but she stepped aside, letting him put some distance between the two of them before she called after him.

"The King is ill. The whole kingdom is catching on to that. No one really knows what it is-sickness, madness...But something isn't right." Mercurio paused. She continued casually, "It's got the Council quite excited. If the King is no longer fit to rule then perhaps he could be deposed, give way for Rat Clan supremacy." She strolled up beside Mercurio and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Of course, the Night Mother plans to come out on top. Surely someone of your ambitious nature feels the same?"

"Are you suggesting I side with you and your Night Mother to seize the throne?"

"You've already been closer than any other Clan agent in living memory. You and your knowledge of the palace are just what she needs. At least consider it. Is your loyalty to the Order really that strong?"

Mercurio rounded on her, his teeth bared, "I don't need the Order and I don't need you! Damn the Council and the whole Clan for all I care! The throne will be mine, and I'm not much for sharing."

Zosha took a step back, eyes wide. For the first time she felt intimidated by Mercurio. It wasn't the anger in his voice, but rather a strange force that seemed to emanate from him. She felt as if he exuded a decisive sense of dread. Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinised him, "What have you done to yourself?"

Mercurio's snarl broke into a sly smile, "I've simply accepted a different path. The path to true strength."

"You're infected." Zosha took a few steps back.

"You want to know what's really happening in the capital? The King has given himself over to the Rot, I've seen it for myself. But the fool's lost control. I, however, won't make the same mistake. I will make myself one with the Rot, command it, and once I've amassed more strength than he could ever hope to wield I'll bring it crashing down on his palace and take it for myself."

Zosha's hands motioned towards her belt, "Do you realise how crazy that sounds? What makes you think I won't just end you here?"

"Because if you actually believed that you could kill me you would have already done it. And because you don't really think it sounds all that crazy." Mercurio spread his arms, "Why don't you help me? Think it over. You and I, with no one else to hold us back, and the greatest prize of all laying at our feet."

Zosha shook her head, but her expression was thoughtful. She edged around Mercurio and began backing away down the hillside. "I'm going back to Briarcrest. I imagine we'll be seeing each other again before long."

Mercurio watched as she turned and made a dash for the nearby tree line. He called after her, "At least consider it. Is your loyalty to the Night Mother really that strong?"

After Zosha had disappeared Mercurio folded his arms, smiling to himself. He hoped to see the assassin again sooner rather than later. This could prove to be most entertaining.

Barnaby and Elyssia were waiting in the great hall when Florian returned to Skytower. "Father!" The short rabbit exclaimed as he ran to embrace Florian.

The Clan Master allowed himself a rare smile as he clutched his son to his chest. "Barnaby! Full of life as ever I see. I think you've grown a little since I last saw you." He patted Barnaby on the head with a chuckle, then turned his attention to the Wardress who still stood at attention nearby. "Elyssia, I trust all is well here?"

Elyssia dipped into a low curtsey, "Yes my lord, the Skytower has been maintained in the manner to which you are accustomed."

Florian sighed somewhat amusedly and approached Elyssia, resting a hand on her shoulder, "And how are you?"

Elyssia straightened but seemed to relax a little, "Also well, Lord Florian." She paused briefly, "As was Lady Amber, when last we spoke."

Florian sucked in a breath, growing serious again. "Yes, I heard the news of her appointment as Steward during my journey. She works quickly." He nodded to himself, "It is as it should be."

Barnaby frowned, "But she could be in danger." He said worriedly.

"She is undoubtedly in danger. To be that close to the King is a risk I would not wish on anyone, were it not necessary."

"What's really going on inside the palace?" Elyssia asked.

"The King...the King is ill." Florian spoke hesitantly, "He is not in his right mind. But that is why it's important that Amber remains there. If the King were to lose the throne there must be a representative of the Rabbit Clan at the royal court. We must be the ones to guide Armello in this time unrest, as has always been our calling."

"I would like permission to travel to the capital." Elyssia stated, "I would rest easier by her side than here, powerless to help."

"Impossible." Florian waved a hand dismissively, "I know how you feel, but the King already distrusts the Clan. The less contact Amber has with us, the less likely it is that the King will think she's plotting something."

"I can't visit her, at least?" Barnaby asked.

Florian shook his head with a scowl, "You are my son and heir, and I will not put you in harm's way until this whole matter is settled. Elyssia."

"My lord?"

"Please make preparations to leave. I would like you to escort my son to Deepwarren and ensure he is kept safe until the kingdom is secure once more."

"At once, my lord." Elyssia inclined her head and turned to leave.

"Father, please! I-" Barnaby protested but Florian cut him off.

"No arguments, no excuses." He squeezed Barnaby's shoulder gently, "We will all be reunited soon, I promise you."

Barnaby sighed, looking visibly deflated. "Alright. I'll get ready to leave."

Elyssia glanced sidelong at the dejected prince as they climbed the stairs from the great hall. She tried to console him, "You used to love Deepwarren. Being close to the mines and the forges was all you ever wanted." Her voice took on a slightly more teasing tone, "In fact, I seem to recall you crying a river when you were first brought to Skytower. It took Amber days to calm you down."

"I don't want to stay cooped up where it's safe!" Barnaby snapped, exasperated. "I want to go out and see the kingdom, like you and Amber. It isn't fair!"

"Lord Florian thinks the world of you, it would break his heart to see you get hurt. And you heard what he said, the King's days are numbered and Florian expects Amber to secure the throne for the Rabbit Clan. For him. You know what that means, don't you?"

Barnaby sighed, "He wants me to succeed him. As Master of the Clan and king as well." He shook his head, "I don't want that kind of responsibility." He stomped down a hallway to his chambers and threw himself against the door, pushing it open.

The interior of the room was an odd mix of elements. One side was a lavish bedchamber decorated in black and gold, the other was bare stone and filled with what looked like the contents of several different workshops jumbled together. There was barely room to walk amid the assortment of workbenches and tables. In one corner was a small forge, anvil and grindstone. In another a slowly bubbling alchemy laboratory formed a forest of twisting glass beside a cabinet filled with brightly coloured bottles. The walls were lined with racks of every tool imaginable; hammers, files, tongs, drills, planes, saws, awls, shears and calipers of various sizes. Odd bits of metal, wood, glass and leather were scattered or piled on the floor, in crates or on tabletops. Every available surface was covered with annotated diagrams of a hundred different devices, some sketched in Barnaby's own hasty scrawl, others looking much older and well pored over. The air was pervaded by the smells of oil, sawdust, smoke and a myriad of unnameable chemicals.

Barnaby whipped off the ribbon that tied his long ears back, casting it aside, and flopped onto his bed with a huff. He bounced a little off the plush mattress before lying still, face down, limbs and ears splayed out around him.

Elyssia perched gingerly on the edge of the bed beside him. "Believe it or not, I know how you feel." She reached out and gently stroked the back of Barnaby's head, "When I was a girl I never wanted to be Wardress. I was taken from my family, brought here, consigned to a life of toil and dedication. This duty was chosen for me. Just like how you didn't want to leave your home before, just like Lady Amber now. I imagine she never wished for the responsibility laid upon her. Even your lord father probably felt the same when he became Master of the Clan. In truth, none of us ever feel ready for the roles that life chooses for us. It is up to us to grow into them, and to grow as people while we do."

Barnaby turned his head to look up at her. "You want to help Amber don't you?"

"Of course. But I have my orders."

"Damn your orders!" Barnaby pushed himself up onto his knees, "And damn my father. Let's go to her! You were told to escort me anyway, so come with me to the capital."

Elyssia sighed and crossed her arms defiantly, "If we do I can't promise to keep you safe."

"I can look after myself."

"Oh really?"

Elyssia watched him quizzically as he rolled off the bed and pulled a heavy chest out from under it. He swung open the lid and started extracting the contents one by one, tossing each behind him in turn. A small pile started growing behind him; dusty books and old toys and puzzles that Barnaby had modified, repaired, or built from scratch over the years. Finally, when the chest was empty, he gripped the bottom of it and pulled. There was a scrape of wood and the whole bottom panel of the chest came away, revealing a surprisingly deep hidden compartment beneath.

Elyssia raised her eyebrows at what Barnaby had revealed. "Did you make all of this?"

"Of course." Barnaby looked back at her, grinning proudly. "What d'ya think?"