Chapter 17: Ch17 A Cranky Meeting
The room was as still as ice.
There was a darkness that clung to the walls like a second skin, consuming the space whole. At the center of the ceiling, a ghastly lion’s head carved out of black iron hung, jaws wide open, cradling a chandelier of dimly flickering lights. The light fell across the oval table of the chamber, glinting dimly on wood-polished surfaces but never touching the figures in the twelve tall-backed chairs.
They all sat in the dark, enveloped in silence. There was only one empty seat, the thirteenth.
There was silence for a moment or two, heavy and ominous, before it was blasted apart with the resounding boom of a meaty fist on the table.
"Preposterous!" a booming voice thundered, rough with sleep and anger. The figure hunched forward, his bulk casting a grotesque shadow. His shadow seeped out into the room, fat and round, like a monstrous pig huddled over in its stall. "Roused from my bed at midnight—called out for this nonsense! A conference? Nonsense!"
A few of the other shadows stirred but uttered not a sound.
Then a light, mocking laughter flashed through the room.
Oh, Elder Pig," the voice warbled with mock reproach. "You should know better than this by now. That’s not the first midnight call you’ve gotten. Don’t tell me your belly’s grown too large to fit your frame—or is it merely your special talent to sleep like a pig?
The shadow of the fat man lurched out into the gloom in rage, chair scraping against the floor. "You—!" he roared, gesturing into the darkness. "What did you just call me?"
The mocking voice laughed again, cold and derisive.
But before things could escalate further, another voice cut into the room. This one was a woman, quiet and edged with irritation.
A giant parasol fell onto the table, its canopy snapping apart. The umbrella unfolded across the glistening wood like a shield between the two combatants.
"By the love of the abyss," the woman growled, her voice heavy with exhaustion. "Can you two morons get through one meeting—one single meeting—without yapping at each other?"
The boar-like elderly man snorted but slumped back into his chair. The scoffing voice puffed, and then fell silent as well.
The others sat around the table, barely looking up. A towering shadow extended his hand, the sound of metal scraping against stone as he honed an enormous blade. Another shadow lay back with his head thrown in a wide arc, clearly asleep amidst the chaos. A thinner figure flipped a coin against his knuckles, the sound of metal clinking in the air. The others sat in shadowed thought, each shrouded in their own routines, their own ideas.
The parasol-carrying woman lowered hers slowly, drawing it away from the table. She slammed the tip on the ground and sighed in irritation, tone snapping into her voice.
"Where in the heck is Sorus? Taking us out here like this, and he’s the one lagging behind?"
She hadn’t even finished speaking before a sound broke the silence again—high, teasing, unsettling.
A laugh.
The parasol woman stiffened. She turned sharply, her senses heightened, and with a flick of her wrist flung open the umbrella, the sharp point shooting out like a javelin.
But it was stopped, stayed against nothing.
A figure stood just behind her chair, the dim light falling on a wee frame clad in black. Her hood was pulled low, but the wide smile on her lips gleamed in the darkness. She had not even flinched from the surprise attack.
"Good evening, elders," Mina spoke sweetly, her voice like that of a child.
The end of the umbrella shook a hair’s breadth from her breast. She did not move, did not even glance at it. Her smile stayed frozen, unholy and childish.
"You—" the parasol lady spat, drawing out the dagger with clear annoyance.
Mina just laughed once more and crept forward quietly, sliding around the table. The air in the chamber seemed to grow heavy as she slid past, her presence twisting the shadows into something colder, darker.
She stopped in front of the empty thirteenth chair, placing her palms on its back.
"Master Sorus is arriving," she said with a cheerful grin. "And he instructed me to keep all of you... in line until he arrives."
Her grin widened, becoming cutting and wicked. "Unless, that is, you wish a repeat of what happened when I had to rouse you."
As if to punctuate her words, black mist curled from beneath her boots, sliding like smoke across the floor. Her left eye glowed faintly, a shimmer of crimson light pulsing like an ember.
The elders stiffened. Even the coin stopped clinking.
They remembered.
Mina smirked, tilting her head. "I’ll take that as a no."
The chamber sank into uneasy silence once more.
But silence never lasted long here.
The fat elder grumbled under his breath, shifting in his seat. Finally, he shoved himself upright with a snarl. "Enough! I’ve wasted enough time in this circus. I’m leaving."
He stomped toward the massive double doors, his bulk shaking the floorboards. His hand stretched toward the iron handle—
A sharp hiss split the air.
He stood frozen, mouth agape. A black sword had materialized against his throat, inches from the cold caress of it sent shivers running down his skin.
He followed its edge back in shock—right to Mina. One hand grasped the sword, her arm loose in a loose motion. The sword was not metal, nor was it something mortal; it was conjured, born of shadows and darkness. It oozed darkness and glowed with obsidian fire.
"Where are you going?" Mina asked, her tone sugary sweet. Her head cocked like that of a child, but her eyes flashed with wickedness. "Master Sorus instructed you to wait."
The flush rose to the elder’s face. He puffed out like a pig, his eyes blazing at her. "You impudent child. You’re just a kid. Kids must keep out of the way when grown-ups talk."
His hand edged back toward the handle once more, shaking with rage.
Mina’s smile grew sharper.
Silently, she came down.
The door handle clanged on the floor, cleanly severed in two pieces. The portly old man shrieked, pulling his hand away just in time to save fingers.
The room became absolutely silent. Even the storm raging outside stuttered.
Mina twirled the shadow-blade around in her palm like a plaything. She then pulled it up once more, blade point shining inches from the elder’s neck.
Her grin turned wider still, vicious and childlike.
"Go ahead," she panted, voice tightening in mock innocence. "Try again."