Page 8 of Whisper Woods

The Tathissian breed is especially valued for their connection to their owners, but even that connection doesn’t seem to be helpful right now, which can only mean the riders are anxious too. Thankfully, the area seems clear of dragons at the present, though I can feel their presence on the edge of my instincts so they are liable to return at any moment.

“Your Eminence,” Brydon follows me in bowing low in the direction of our ruler, who inclines her head in return, the pink puff of her hair bobbing in the breeze as she does. “Grand Masters.”

Our bow to them is more of a deep nod of the head, rather than the more formal bend at the waist. Respectful enough to not cause a slight, but still, I catch the flare in Heylor’s eyes when he tightens his grip on his reins.

“Tavisher Rafe,” Heylor intones, looking down his beak-like nose at me, pointedly ignoring his son. Lia, however, doesn’t miss the disrespect. Nor the fact that he spoke first. Or that he has crept his horse to be ahead of hers.

Narrowing her pink eyes in his direction—bold against the palest pink of her skin, she clicks her tongue to edge her horse to the front. Beside me I can feel the twitch of Brydon’s hand, a reflex no doubt caused by his attempts to restrain his snicker of laughter when the ruler's horse pushes its way past Heylor’s.

“Darling Brydon! Rafe, my dear! I’m glad we found you.” The affection in her voice is so pointed and over the top it borders on ridiculous.

We, well, I, manage to contain the laughter tickling at my chest. Brydon can no longer hold back his snickering chuckle.

Lia slips off her beast with effortless grace, despite its height. Gurt is the firstto react, moving to assist her, but he pauses at the almost imperceptible shake of her head.

Like I said, perfectly trained.

Stepping towards us, she brushes her hands over her coat, a deep inky blue, buttoned all the way to the high collar with shining brass buttons. She must be stiflingly hot in the increasing heat of the day, but she hasn’t broken a sweat. Or at least, her glamour isn’t showing it.

She embraces us both and when it’s my turn, I can feel the energy vibrating off her. My instincts, already thrown for the morning, start screaming far too late.

“Rafe, my darling. We have come with a command from the High Council. I thought it best to bring it to you myself.” She has to tilt her head back to look me in the eye, her hands gripping my biceps tightly.

Swallowing down the anxiety I can feel ratcheting through my body from where she is touching me, I nod my head into a polite bow.

“Anything, Your Eminence.”

As if by agreement, we ignore the irritated snort from one of the Grand Masters. More than likely, Heylor.

“We are asking you to return to the Mundane.” There is a slight pause, a brief flash of something flashing over Lia’s features before she decides her next words and continues. “We, the Council and I, are aware you have only recently returned from your recent travels to Ulydessia, but with circumstances as they are, we cannot wait.”

“The north-eastern wall is gone,” Edley announces, out of nowhere, his gruff voice edged with anxiety. The horse beneath him prances with it. Everyone’s horrified faces turn to the guard, who frowns back to cover his embarrassment at his outburst.

“What do you mean it’s gone?” Brydon is the first to gather his wits, relieving Edley of everyone's attention.

“Not entirely gone, but a section of it. We have riders out to confirm, but Kian returned overnight with stories of woolchucks hopping through the boundaries. A guard managed to catch him in time, before he spread his newsthroughout the city.” Yorin’s voice is suspiciously even. Without even a hint of judgement or hint of his take on the situation.

On the one hand, Kian, a local shepherd, is a known drunk who likes to spin wild tales on lonely stretches out in the hills with his sheep. On the other hand, the loss of the wall entirely feels inevitable at this point.

“Kian is a known fool, and no being with a lick of intelligence would believe a word out of his drunken bellig—” Lia cuts Heylor’s rant off with a raised gloved hand. No doubt she’d heard enough of it already. Heylor has always been impudent, forever toeing the line of disrespect in his continual search for more power than his position deserves. It seems that the current climate in Tathys has emboldened him further, especially as the purported leader of the voices calling for the return of our walls.

“Be that as it may, the rumours are being investigated. As is right.” A ripple of magic flows through the air, punctuating Lia’s point. The display of power is met with uncomfortable clearing of throats from her council, while their horses prance beneath them. Lia takes a deep breath, closing her eyes gently before she expels it, clearing her lungs with her hands on her hips. “So far, we’ve found that the boundaries have not fallen, though they are weaker than they have ever been. But that isn’t why we’ve come, Rafe. Grand Master Lughis, they’ve had… visions.”

Concern tightens low in my gut, my hands tensing reflexively. Grand Master Lughis isn’t just a member of the council. As the Master of the Oruns, Lughis is the council's Seer.

Lughis scared me as a child. It wasn’t their vivid white complexion, hairless face, or hauntingly deep violet eyes. No, it was their constant silence, their impenetrable calm. And the time I saw it all disappear when they were lost in a violent vision. They became deranged, screaming incoherent babble, flailing their body until the Hands managed to restrain them safely. I was removed after that, but it was too late. I have never been able to forget their wailing screams.

“And what were these visions?” I impress myself with the neutrality of my voice.

Lia smiles a small smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. She looks tired, thestrain of the recent troubles beginning to show. “As I said, under orders of the Seer, and the Council, you, and all Tavishers are to go to the Mundane. To seek information, to pave the way. I am aware that there has been conjecture and suspicion, but the Orun, they have confirmed that the prophecy has begun. We need to know the cause. We need to find a way to keep our citizens safe—”

“What we need is to know how to stop it.” Heylor interjects bitterly, earning himself a dark glare from the High Eminence.

When she turns back to me, there is a softness when she recognises the shock and the sympathy in my eyes. I cannot imagine the stress my old friend is under if the Orun are declaring the end of Tathys, as we know it, is officially here.

“Lughis’s vision was quite specific, Rafe. They were insistent that rather than visiting your usual regions, you are to travel to Carconnois. Specifically, the Whisper Woods.”

“Why me? Why there?” Despite the dire situation, there is still a frisson of excitement running through me. The Woods are not my territory. Finding reasons to visit another region over the years has been difficult, so I’ve taken advantage of every opportunity. Always in the hopes of seeing him again. Seff.

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