Page 91 of Fate of Echoes and Embers
Grabbing the reins of Issa’s mount, I rode forward.
“We’ve yet to advance,” I heard Lyra saying.
After greetings were exchanged, I asked Eirion if their camp could accommodate sixty more.
“Indeed,” he said. “Though we’ve a newcomer to camp, a Gyorian himself, who warns of a flank attack by a band of Gyorians. We were told those who support Draven are inside with him. Reivers, thieves… none with authority from their king. But the others are a different story.”
“How far away are they?” I asked.
“Unsure. Our scout should be returning soon to confirm.”
Gyorians hid their tracks over land well, but an Aetherian scout didn’t rely on physical markers alone. With the air at their command, I had no doubt we would know precisely how far away this new band was.
“What’s the plan?” I asked.
It was Lyra who answered. “It may change with your arrival.”
I motioned ahead. “Onward then.”
Issa remounted easily, reminding me how adept she was at more than just sailing.
If it was unusual for a contingency of Thalassari to join an Aetherian one to defend a human holding, it was made even more so by the presence of Gyorian scouts lurking at the tree line. I couldn’t see them, of course, but knew they were there. Three separate clans had converged upon Hawthorne Manor, and the air was thick with tension.
As we dismounted, Eirion and Kieran greeted each other warmly, their individual histories intertwining more than once throughout the ages.
“This way,” Lyra said to Issa and me as our mounts, and belongings, were taken by one of my own men who had joined the mission. I raised a hand to thank him, allowing Lyra to lead us toward the Aetherian camp.
“Our newcomer,” she said, weaving between tents. “I believe you know him.”
Rounding the corner, we came upon what was likely Eirion’s tent. It was larger than the others, five times in size. Waving her hand, Lyra opened the flap made of sapphire silk. Aetherians were nothing if not impractical, their love of beauty finding its place even in the midst of battle.
The Gyorian informant’s back was to us as he spoke to an Aetherian warrior who sat at the oval table in the center of the tent.
He turned.
Issa gasped.
37
ISSA
Embracing Adren, after the shock of seeing my newfound relative here, I asked the obvious question.
“What are you doing here?”
“Pardon me.” The Aetherian he was speaking to excused himself as Lyra, Marek, and I sat, Adren doing the same. On the table in front of us, a map of Hawthorne Manor.
“The day you left,” Adren said, a question in his eyes since he wouldn’t know it was safe to discuss the Crystal in front of Lyra, “Ilyas returned to Grimharbor, asking for you. An interesting one,” he said sardonically to Marek, who shrugged. “When he realized my connection to you, he admitted that he’d been acquiring information on your behalf. It was through him I learned of Draven’s declaration. I left immediately for Hawthorne.”
“When he arrived,” Lyra said. “Before Adren knew I was at camp and could vouch for him, he was nearly killed.”
“A risky move,” I agreed. “Coming into an Aetherian camp alone. Or did you bring others?”
“I am alone. There are men of Kael’s I trust but also knew from Ilyas about the Aetherian encampment and thought it best I come myself.”
“Wise,” Lyra agreed. “And likely what saved you.”
“You risked yourself to be here?” I asked.
