The Winter Phoenix (WAYHAUGHT)

Ever onward

The Realm:

John Holliday strolled out of the palace the same way he strolled in. Without Waverly he knew he would need a decoy to avoid the scrutiny of the guards. He doffed his hat at them as he sauntered past, hand in hand with a cloaked woman. Too busy teasing him for having found someone blind enough to be his companion, the guards failed to notice Holliday was missing his cloak, or that the woman accompanying him was a foot taller. Thanking the accommodating kitchen maid with a kiss, he rushed to his father's shop where Derek and Gloria were waiting in the cellar.

Holliday advised his father it would be safer if he stayed with a relative in the next valley until he sent word. When night fell the four left Guthram, Holliday hugging his father at the crossroads hoping they would be reunited when the storm had passed. The final leg of their journey to Saker's Keep was arduous, steep mountain passes, and driving snow, slowing their progress. Like the weather, the atmosphere between the three travellers remained frosty, Holliday frustrated by the turn of events, Derek reluctant to accept he was now beholden to a soothsayer, Gloria doing her best to stop the pair resolving any discussion with their fists.

The distant outline of fortified walls was a welcome sight. Two more days trekking up a treacherous mountain pass they finally reached their destination, shocked by the numbers already camping along the approach road. Those who had made the same journey before them, those seeking sanctuary from an army they knew was heading their way.

Holliday sought out his contact in one of the many taverns close to the main gate. "What news?" he said, as their group huddled at one end of a long wooden bench, thankful to be out of the cold, tankards of warm mead before them.

"Our army swells in numbers daily," the man replied, features similar to the soothsayer suggesting a family connection. "I hear Svane's spread his men like rancid lard."

"That maybe so," Holliday replied, "but he has the crystal on his side. And, the Duke's son is not a man of war."

"Halsingdor's heir would have carried us to victory."

Holliday glanced at his two travelling companions. "She has returned," he whispered. "She is on her way."

"I heard she was back," his cousin replied, his own voice lowered. "Also heard Tomos did the deed."

"The stones say otherwise."

"You'd better be right," his cousin said.

They followed Holliday's relative to the main gate, joining the end of a snaking line of people seeking sanctuary behind wide walls and tall towers. The Jett family ruled Saker's Keep. Had done so for as long as Nicole's family had ruled Halsingdor. Brothers in arms, families united, they sought peaceful solutions, diplomacy over daggers. Unless their diplomacy fell on deaf ears, at which point daggers would be drawn.

Robin, the Duke's youngest son, was not known for his physical prowess. Rather, he was someone who valued music and fine wine over muscles and fierce wars. The mantle of leadership had fallen on him following the death of his older brother, the task of amassing an army, and then taking that army into battle sitting oh so uncomfortably on those oh so delicate shoulders.

He wasn't an accomplished military strategist like his brother. In fact, he wasn't a strategist at all. Unlike Bulshar, who thrived in pitting one person against another, making them dance to his tune. Preferably, those who could dance to the tune of war. It was almost too easy for that snake, watching Rathe become poisoned with lies he encouraged, fanning the flames of conspiracy and finger pointing, knowing his distractions gave him the freedom to rape the realm of its precious crystal.