Page 74 of The Shadowed Oracle
“Mourning,” Dean said to her lowly. They were a few miles into the long trek through civilian quarters and up to the king’s private castle. “That battle we came across might’ve been worse than it looked.”
“Can’t imagine that.” Tyla kept the same contemplative scowl on her face since finding the fallen child-soldier. “This looks like a royal decree.”
“Didn’t want to say so,” Raidinn agreed. “But we might be catching old Nestor at a bad time.”
Fewer fallen soldiers were wearing Maradenn colors and sigils, but that didn’t mean they’d been victorious. The king might’ve ordered his people inside to keep the city in silent remembrance. Mourning the defeat, or perhaps an importantfigure. Someone whose body hadn’t even gone cold yet, fighting in a war that King Nestor, as Dean told it, might’ve been hesitant to fight in the first place.
A war that they were now about to ask for aid in, to the tune of thousands of world-walkers traveling through their sacred portal and directly inside their castle walls.
With this new speculation, they were in no hurry, slowing their pace. The only sound for miles was the crunching of dirt beneath boots and hooves. Many times, Ingrid saw guards atop watchtowers stationed throughout the city, spectating silently. It was obvious to anyone with eyes how out of place the four of them looked.
Even Alkaleese could sense something was off, huffing and whimpering as they went. Ingrid calmed her with a stroke over her nose, then tied her up at the hitching rail once they’d come upon the king’s lavish gate.
It was an impenetrable wall of dark metal adorned with all manner of shining stones, guarded night and day by soldiers stationed out front in plain view. Tyla again took the lead and spoke with one of the guards standing watch. He was dressed in full regalia, a spit-shined helm with Weycus wolf fangs on the visor and chin-guard. Six more soldiers stood equidistant apart to form a wall, dressed the same, their long spears blocking the way, and above them were at least twenty more soldiers manning large crossbows and staring directly ahead like stone mastheads, as if blinking had been outlawed.
Ingrid found herself gawking, taking in the enormous scale of it all, when Tyla’s voice cut through.
“I’m… I’m so sorry to hear.” She turned backward to her team, flashing a hopeless expression that made Ingrid blush. She’d been caught not paying attention. “My condolences to the king. And to his son’s family.”
Small, vicious scoffs came from the guards nearby.
The soldier speaking to Tyla didn’t speak for half a minute, only glared suspiciously. When he did finally speak, his voice felt like sandpaper. “The prince didn’thavea family.”
“Spies,” one of the other guards spat.
“Should we take them to the dungeons?” another offered.
The lead soldier held up a hand, silencing them. “What’s your business here?”
“To help.” Tyla recovered quickly, which Ingrid found particularly impressive considering the news. The prince.The eerie quiet in the kingdom, the mourning, it was in honor of Nestor’s son.“I’m sorry for your loss, though it’s been so long since I’ve heard word of the royals of Maradenn. I suppose Nestor likes it that way, yes?”
The guard only nodded.
“Nonetheless,” Tyla went on. “And I do apologize for the timing, but we have urgent business. Speaking to King Nestor in a timely fashion is critical. We have something…” She noticed the guard’s bored expression here, causing her to be more direct. “We have an army that can help win this war.”
The guard stilled, scowling at them with his mouth agape, crooked teeth flashing. Ingrid had been floored by the exceptional beauty of the Viator she’d seen thus far, had assumed it was the standard for her kind, and an answer to why she’d been so noteworthy back on Earth, but this particular soldier seemed to fit more with the lonely men that came into her bar in San Bruno.
His nose was slightly crooked, his chin a little recessed, his eyes beady and plain. Ingrid followed those eyes hopefully as they locked on to the other guards just behind him, but was disappointed to find they weren’t paying Tyla any attention, not at all taken by her insistence in helping in the war efforts.
“Don’t you want vengeance for your Prince?” Tyla stirred. “You can take our weapons if it makes you feel better. We only want to help. And as it stands now, you need it.”
Another brief pause.
More whispers from the soldiers.
“You’re right,” the guard said stoically. “In light of this new information, I’d like to formally invite you to…” He couldn’t hold a straight face any longer. “Piss off. Immediately.”
The four world-walkers said nothing for a moment. Ingrid could feel the rage bubbling inside each member of her team. A few of the guards shifted, metal clanging as they gripped their swords.
“Can I at least get a message to him?” Tyla bristled. “The king fought alongside one of our soldiers. If you simply mention the name?—”
“You want me to personally talk to the king?” the soldier interrupted. “What carriage did you fall off getting here, girl?”
Tyla didn’t back down. “I’m sure you’re very busy. I don’t mean to disturb your duties here. But if you could talk to someone. Tell them that Karis sent us. Karis Endolinn.”
The snarky guard froze. From behind him, one of the gargoyle-like watchmen broke his concentration and angled his head slightly to get a better look at Tyla. A better look at the woman who’d just invoked the name of the last known Oracle in Ealis.
“You’re asking me to believe that Karis Endolinn sent you?”
