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| - Myr flew at Darin and Xander with sudden force and ferocity enough to knock Xander to his knees. Fastening his hand around Darin’s wrist, he raged, “Stop it, you pompous asses!” Xander had known that Myr had a reputation for fierce anger, but he had never been the recipient of it himself and he was very startled. Whether from his station or out of some kind of fear, the communicant had always remained civil with him, even when their friendship had become exceedingly strained. “That’s enough of your posturing,” Myr added with fury. Tralin turned and looked at Delnar in recognition, his features twisted into a mask of pain and grief. “So, Delnar, it worked.” “Yes, it worked,” Delnar responded. “But what a curse it has been, what a horrible sensation to feel oneself torn apart from within, to feel their decay, to sense the corruption all around. To suffer through it all and only to come too late. Only to see one's king die before you even as you arrive.” “What is this, Tralin?” Darin demanded. “I thought you put him to rest; it is clear your magic failed.” “On the contrary, Darin,” Tralin responded softly, apparently pained by the continued assault, “I never told you I put him to rest.” “Yes, you did. I remember asking you on the ship and you....” Darin paused. “Never answering. Indeed, I went to my room and hid from you and Cerin the entire way home. I had to. I was exhausted and pained. No, I did not put Delnar to rest; rather, I raised him as the undead myself.” “YOU WHAT?!” Darin demanded, horrified, his doubts resurfacing with force. “What is this, Drakel, are you helping the enemy? Perhaps the reason why the Drakel survived the Devourer was because they were, in fact, among those races that served him.” “I begin to share his reservations, I fear, Tralin; how can we know it is not so?” Xander added. “You insolent fools!” Myr screeched, and turned toward Darin directly. “If your KING was a servant of the Uncreator, he would hardly kill the Brilhado, who are among his most dedicated and powerful warriors. And so help me, if either of you so much as looks at Delnar crossly, I shall strike you dead myself.” Darin backed up under this fury, noting the gathering shadows around Myr, which suggested that the communicant was quite serious. “You have been among the Brilhado; your judgment has been affected, Myr. Please stand aside,” Xander pleaded. “Yes, I have been among them. Surely, you heard quite clearly. I am not their servant and neither is Delnar. So help me, Xander, should you continue, I will strip you of your mantle.” The group stood in silent disarray until Delnar bent down near the king. Afraid that he intended to raise the king in undeath, Xander drew his sword and stepped forward in malice. Myr wasted no time: a thin line of shadow flew from his hands and struck Xander in the chest plate. The shadow grew as it extracted the shadow stuff from the armor and then began to lift away. “Xander, son of Calmar, I strip from you the Mantle of the Shadow Guard and remove you from your position as Lead Knight of the Order at Stone Deep by my authority as Communicant and head of the Church of the Shadow Lord. I excommunicate you from the Temple of Shadows as one hostile to the will of the Shadow Lord.” Myr’s voice changed then, deeper, more like the voice that filled the clearing before the Brilhado were destroyed. “However, we are not without mercy and consideration of your circumstance. Your mantle and your privileges and your full position and title shall return at twilight two days hence should you demonstrate full and thorough repentance and remorse for your assault upon my chosen.” “My god,” Xander said, falling to his knees, and it was then that Xander and Darin both saw the thing that convinced them. Delnar sat there on the ground next to the dead king, Tralin at his side, and both the king and the knight were openly and fully crying.
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![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)