He paced back and forth in the gloom, fingering the inscription on his heavy gold ring. "What do you see, Mazara? Are the Biza advancing?"
Mazara frowned, then tapped her teacup sharply with a small silver spoon. Tea leaves scattered, obliterating any existing patterns. "I can't tell, your Highness. Something is blocking my Sight."
"Has this ever happened to you before? In my short reign, you've never failed me. And Father never mentioned your powers faltering..."
"No, my Sight has never failed - not once in two hundred and fourteen years. The Biza either have an extremely powerful talisman, or a Dark Reflector."
The young king stopped pacing, and stared at the contents of the teacup. "What is a Dark Reflector?"
"A being who can reflect the appearance of evil intent back towards its source. A mortal army might see a harmless group of travelers, where in truth an enemy army is advancing."
He shivered, despite the heat radiating from the iron cookstove. "And you... what does it do to your Sight?"
"I can't sense the Biza at all. It's as if every last one ceased to exist."
"Then we must assume they're coming. Thank you for your efforts Mazara," the youth said, then walked out of the dimly lit room.
He strode into the courtyard, and shouted "Double the archers, and bring in the farmers. Once everyone is within the city walls, raise the drawbridge."
The next weeks were the quietest in the little settlement's history. Not so much as a messenger or peddler requested entry.
A man carrying a quill pen and leather bound book entered the throne room, and bowed.
"You may rise, Planson."
"Excuse me, your Highness. We must send a party to trade for food. I estimate that we will be running low before the next full moon."
The king's eyes widened, and he clenched the armrests. "Is there no other solution?"
The submissive little man took a tentative step forward. "I'm sorry, your Highness. You may check my figures."
Three days later carts were sent out, with enough gold to obtain food to withstand the expected siege.
Ten days after they departed, a young boy knocked quietly on the door of the King's sleeping quarters.
"Yes?"
"Good morning, your Highness. The trading party has returned, and is requesting entry."
"Tell the general to order his guards to let them in. But check the carts first."
The young king then arranged to receive the travelers who had risked their lives.
"Mazara, can you see if this will be enough to get us through?" he asked.
She closed her eyes, and clasped a small purple crystal, which dangled on a gold chain around her neck. It began to glow in every color of the rainbow. "No, your Highness. I can't see anything about our future."
Planson, who was standing beside her, frowned. "What's wrong, fair lady?"
"It's been going on for a while, but this isn't the time to explain. It's nothing that you could help with, Planson."
"If you can think of anything I can do to help, don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you," Mazara said kindly. Still holding the crystal in her right hand, she put her left on his shoulder.
Planson instantly dropped to the floor, writhing in pain before going still.
Mazara gasped, and stumbled backwards. She caught hold of the throne for support. "Your Highness! Planson is a Dark Reflector..."
Soon afterwards, feet could be heard pounding towards the throne room. Several guards burst in unannounced.
A panting guard spoke quickly. "Your Highness, the drawbridge was halfway down when the food caravan transformed into Biza. We stalled by feigning a problem with the pulley, and managed to put arrows into a lot of them."
"Good work. Take that traitor to the dungeon," he instructed, pointing towards Planson, who was still out cold.
Mazara gazed at her glowing rainbow crystal, and smiled. "Your Highness, I see us winning, with very few casualties. The Biza's reign of terror will soon come to an end."
Cover image made in Canva Pro using their gallery