Ravaged: Prologue

Ravaged: Prologue

“The bastard dies tonight!”

The other five council members’ expressions turned to shock with Dothrik’s demand. Their discomfort at the prospect of assassinating the only senator not in attendance of their secret meeting was evident as they started to murmur between one another.

Dothrik furrowed his brow. “Ye all know his time has come! Theiran be nothin’ more than a token on this council. It’s time for new blood, not the antics of a warrior past his prime.” He shifted his glare to each of his colleagues and watched most diminish beneath it. Two of the senators nodded impishly.

Eyeing the next in line, who refused to offer his agreement, Dothrik stepped closer to the dwarf. With a menacing scowl, he reiterated, “Theiran dies tonight.”

Caught between morality and the unending grimace, the dwarf seemed at a loss. His thick fingers rose to straighten the creases in his plush robe. “Be reasonable, Dothrik! Theiran be an honorable dwarf, sure as stones. He’s shed more blood an’ sweat for Tarabar than the rest o’ us combined. He be an icon of the council. What yer demandin’ be treasonous! If Bothain could see ye he’d—”

“He’d what?!” Dothrik howled, pressing his nose against the other dwarf’s. “He’d smite me down with his mighty hammer? Or would he tempt me with barmaids?” His face twisted into a smile upon his final statement as he could see the senator turn to shock. He knew that one day having the knowledge of the dwarf’s indiscretions would serve him. “No, I’m thinkin’ everythin’ will be just fine. Don’t ye?”

Nearly shaking in fear, the other council member eyed the others, praying to Bothain that word of his adultery wouldn’t be whispered to his wife. Thankfully, only his friend to his left appeared to catch on while the rest stared at him in confusion. Knowing his back was against a wall, the dwarf turned back to Dothrik and nodded his head as well.

Shifting to the next senator in the circle, Dothrik nearly laughed aloud as the dwarf was already nodding his confirmation, too fearful of his own secrets being spilt.

“Good. That just leaves you, Myra.”

The other senators all looked to Myra in desperation. She didn’t miss the fact that all her counterparts had bent to Dothrik’s will, yet they expected her to be the voice of reason. For each passing moment that their expectant expressions were held over her, she grew more irritated. Just as she was about to voice her opinions, a minor tremor rumbled beneath their feet.

A few candles in the small room shook with the slight vibrations and fell to the ground. “They be happenin’ more frequently,” stated one of the council members as he scooped up the candles and set them back on the stone table from which they had fallen. “And gettin’ stronger.”

Dothrik waved away the notion, frustrated at the distraction. “Bah, there’s been quakes before. We live in the mountains, what’d ye expect?”

“Never this repetitive.”

Ignoring the dwarf, Dothrik pointed a finger at Myra. “So? Ye in agreement?”

Letting a slow exhale, Myra shook her head. “Theiran is a respected dwarf. One of us. I won’t let this plan go further.” She knew her words would not be well-received, but the hateful scowl that Dothrik responded with seemed to put even her expectations to shame.

“Ye know,” the menacing senator began, still eyeing Myra intensely. “Theiran’s seat ain’t the only one that might need changin’.”

Myra frowned at the blatant implication. Just as before, she looked to the other council members for assistance, wondering how they could stand by as one of their own openly threatened any who opposed him. But each had cast their eyes down to the ground. After considering her options carefully, Myra’s jaw finally unclenched. “Fine. Theiran dies tonight.” As the words passed through her lips, she felt an immense wave of guilt wash over her. In truth, she had only wished to get out of the room alive, planning to thwart the plot when she wasn’t in such an unfavorable position. But even speaking the lie made her feel nauseous.

Dothrik, on the other hand, spread wide a smile of glee. “Right, then. It all be in motion. Ye lot just stick to yer business and leave me to mine. By tomorrow, Theiran will be dead.” The wicked senator couldn’t help but add a cackle of laughter that unsettled his colleagues further. One by one, they eagerly scurried out of the room, still wearing their fearful expressions—all save for Myra, who’s stern silence promised retaliation.

Once the other senators were gone, Dothrik let out a malicious cackle, wrapping his arms around himself as if he’d burst. “Bahahah! It finally be happenin’, Theiran! No longer will ye dispute me every decision, ye old bag. It’s time to finally put ye in the ground where ye belong!”

As he laughed viciously, another candle fell to the ground, then a second. Dothrik stopped, quickly realizing that the tremors had returned, this time more violently. The rest of the candles fell from the tables, then even the furniture began to vibrate. A tapestry hanging on the wall came crashing to the floor, nearly knocking the dwarf on the head. The senator’s fingers wrapped tightly around the edge of the table for stability as he waited for the tremor to pass. But, unlike the last, this quake refused to cease. Moments later, Dothrik could hear dozens of screams from outside the small room.

Hesitantly, he pulled open the door as the city’s alarm bells pierced the cavern.