Drear, dark, forbidding, Cragmont stood atop the jagged ridge of the Quiet Peaks, almost a part of the mountain range, its curtain wall closing off the headland around the foot of the great stone bridge that leapt from the clifftop to the to the more habitable valley below, filled with the people and buildings of Laudonia. Farther out towers and outbuildings clung to the cliffs beyond, linked to each other by covered archways when the pillars stood close, by long stretches of weathered stone wall when they did not.

Lot paced wordlessly down the walkway at the top of the stone wall, shivering slightly in the northern cold. His footsteps seemed muffled to him here, not echoing but projecting of the stones and out into the snowy darkness.

The Kings of Lothian watched him pass. Their likenesses were carved into the stones that made up the walls of the mighty fortress. In long rows they sat, blind eyes staring out into the darkness. The shifting shadows made the stone figures seem to stir as the living passed by.

By ancient custom an iron crown had been set atop the head of each who had been King of Lothian, to honor and mark the strength of their reign. The oldest had long ago rusted away, leaving faint red stains that traced down the stone faces like bloody tears. Lot grimaced and readjusted the crown on his on head, the northern air having already chilled the iron to an uncomfortable temperature.

Lot stopped in the archway that led to the next level of the fortress, beside the last of the sculpted kings. The stone face was as dark and hard as the others, but the strong Northman build of the king carved there seemed to watch him in judgement. The narrow cobblestone streets clung to the cliffs that rose up alongside the river. The buildings were almost all stone, a mixture of old dwellings and newer establishments. The cold wind swept down the streets, driving flakes of snow into the crowds of people who hurried along the way. The people of Laudonia had always seemed to live in a hurry, Lot observed. With the cold, dark winters and the constant threat of invasion from the other kingdoms of the North, there was never enough time to have a moment to breathe.

Lot sighed and turned away as the snowflakes began to fall more furiously. He walked back the way he had come and entered the council chambers. A great long table dominated the chamber, stretching out of the entry and then turning left to go back the width of the room. It was a massive table, carved from a single slab of stone,  with seemingly hundreds of chairs leaning against it. At the far end of the table a pair of chairs stood, with a lectern on the table in front of them. Lot took a seat in one of the ornate chairs and waited.

Several minutes passed and then one of the doors opened and a tall woman walked into the room. The woman was muscular and dressed in fur and the blue and white colors of their kingdom, her long black hair pulled back into a tight braided knot. Her face was weather worn, but still beautiful, and cold blue eyes swept the room quickly before setting on Lot. Her face grew dark for a moment, but then she took a deep breath and seemed to calm herself. She walked to the table and took her seat, her eyes on Lot.

“I did as you asked.”

“I can see that,” her deep, mocking voice had a raspy quality that always reminded him of a rusty blade. “I am glad that you chose to after your hesitation.”

The eyes of the carved King at the head of the table seemed to glow blue, and then flash white, as if the eyes of a living man for a moment filled with a fire that should have long since faded.

Lot felt his face grow pale. She saw it, he thought suddenly. She saw the light from the king’s eye and she knows.

“Did you see…?”

“Of course I did, Lot.” Morgause shifted slightly in her chair, her face now almost expressionless. “It’s a trick of the light, my love.” Her voice was now soft and smooth, almost soothing. “If you look now, you’ll see that there is nothing there.”

Lot turned and looked at the eyes of the stone king, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. They were now merely cold, hard stone once more. He dared not look at the eyes of the king which seemed to be staring directly at him, boring into his very soul. Lot felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as if the stone king was trying to speak with him.

He looked away quickly and sighed, his hands pushing into the table in front of him. “I hope you’re right, my love.”

Morgause’s eyes grew dark, but she smiled. “I am always right, Lot. You know that.” She cast her eyes around the chamber and then back at him. “I saw the little whore the other day.”

“She’s not a whore,” Lot snapped.

“She’s a thief and a liar,” Morgause said after a while. “If you are so concerned about your honor, why is a woman like that still alive?”

It was as if the stone king had said the words himself.

“What are you saying?” Lot asked.

“I think we need to have her killed.”

The stone eyes seemed to glow red with a fire that had nothing to do with the firelight in the chamber. Lot felt the cold creep into his bones, and his mind reeled. Slowly he turned back to Morgause.

“It is the magic at work.” Morgause said calmly. “I can feel it, and it’s nothing you have to worry about.”

“The council will be here soon,” Lot said, feeling strangely calm. “We need to talk about what we’re going to do next.”

“We need to do nothing, my love,” Morgause said, her voice still smooth, almost hypnotic. “I have done everything I can to insure that your reign as King of Lothian will be long, and prosperous. You will be a great King and our descendants will rule long after we have left this world.”

Lot turned and looked at his wife. It was as if he saw her for the first time. Her eyes seemed to glow in the torchlight and the fire in her eyes seemed to burn hotter than any other time he had ever seen her. For some reason he didn’t think it was a reflection of the light.