Page 53 of Feathers and Thorns

Braexmirth - The Following Morning

Soren, Baz, and Enara were still shaken from their meeting with the king. They had struggled to hide their concern for their friend, not wanting to be seen as accomplices. News of Jai’s arrest had hit them all hard, and they could feel their hope dwindling.

Their concern for saving Entheas was multiplied ten-fold when a short, stout man came huffing and puffing to interrupt their breakfast with terrible news. Their hometown of Vreburn had been burned to the ground, and three other attacks had occurred across the provinces. Dhamtra had been leveled to nothing but a pile of rubble and sand, and the Esinian Isles had been ravaged by black beasts that no one could seem to describe.

“I worry, sir, that we may be next,” the informant said through a fit of coughs. “The attacks seem to be moving west. It won’t take long for the scourge to reach us once they enter Estelar.”

“I see,” was the king’s surprisingly simple response. “Thank you, Odhran, I will handle it from here. I recommend you stay with your family for the time being.”

The informant nodded and said, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” before scurrying off.

The whole table had fallen into an uncomfortable silence as they waited to hear what the king had to say.

He eyed them one by one before he spoke. “Why do I have a feeling these attacks have something to do with you showing up on my doorstep?”

“Well,” Baz started, “there is no use beating around the bush now.” He stood, crossing his left fist over his chest and kneeling before the king. “I know I am a commoner to you, born to the country of one of your enemies, but there is true evil coming that does not care where we are born. They seek to destroy us all, and we have come to ask for your help.”

With impending war, the time for secrets was over, so the trio launched into a recap of everything they had experienced since the death of Soren’s father then held their breaths as the king seemed to contemplate their story.

By some miracle of the Maker, he sensed the truth behind their eyes and placed a large hand on Baz’s shoulder. “You are brave, son, just like your grandfather. Where you hail from is of no consequence to me. If our world is at stake, you can count on my soldiers to fight with you as your grandfather did for his people all those years ago. I’ll have Callan ready your horses. He will accompany you, along with Ikei and Ori. They are three of my finest soldiers, and you may need their help to free the new King of Patrivah.”

“Who will stay to protect you?” Soren asked, not wanting to leave the King of Braexmirth at a disadvantage.

He gave her a sly grin and responded, “My dear girl, if I can survive my wife, I can survive this.”

The trio laughed at his candor.

“My forges will rage once more. Give my metal smiths the week then return with your army. If we are going to face gods and monsters, we will do it with the strongest of armors and the sharpest of blades.” With that final statement, he waved them off, his twin guards trailing close behind.

They swiftly grabbed their belongings from their rooms and, along with Callan, the twins, and Saoirse, who refused to be left behind, they headed for the stables at the base of the mountain.

Their chattering stopped short as they entered the building.

“Well, this is a welcome party I wasn’t quite expecting,” Rook said, his blue eyes glinting.

Callan went to unsheathe his sword, but Soren stepped between them, halting the soldier’s attack.

“It’s okay,” she said and, to Rook’s surprise, followed it up with, “He’s with us.”

* * *

“Think she will ever stop staring daggers into the back of my head?” Rook asked as they clopped along down the dirt road toward the ferry.

Over the course of the previous day’s travel, Enara had threatened Rook’s life no less than eight times, and Soren had to hold Baz back from punching him out twice. She couldn’t blame her friends for their reaction to him. She was still debating on smothering him in his sleep herself.

“Well, if you stopped antagonizing Baztien, she might hate you a little less,” Soren said with a pointed look.

Rook gave her that boyish smirk that filled her mind with frustration and other places with heat. “It’s not my fault the guy is a walking joke.”

The comment made Soren bristle. “At least he has a sense of humor, unlike someone I know.”

“If I recall, I made a few well-placed one-liners back at the manor.”

Soren snorted. “Oh, please, you have the humorous capacity of a chamber pot.”

“Did you just make me the butt of a joke?” Rook responded, the corners of his lips curling up into a smile that Soren couldn’t resist returning.

“Okay, fine, that was mildly funny.”

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