"She is gone," his deep, lazy voice drawled.
"What do you mean by 'gone'?" Hilé's eyes narrowed.
Srin Estabon smiled, "Just as I said, rirli." His velvet clad leg was slung over the throne's arm, as comfortable as one could possibly be. "The whole kingdom knows. You complained last time that no one seemed to care, so, I told everyone," a wide grin split his dark face, "You are welcome."
Jaw clenched, he asked, "How long has the queen been gone?"
"Oh, a few days, maybe the entire week," his fingers roamed the expansive arm wrest of the throne, his fingertips meeting each bump and engraving.
"You did not think to call me back?" Hilé's grip tightened around the handle of his sheathed sword, his knuckles turning white. He had been scouting the west for Mouir and Thylendri squatters the last week. "The kingdom is falling apart because of her absence, but you do not seem to care."
Estabon leaned forward slightly, "Wrong again, Hilé. I do care about this kingdom, that is why I will do nothing, for now. Without the monarch, this kingdom is even more of a target for our enemies. The people will beg for a king and I am the only fit choice," he sat back again. "By the way, we are now officially at war with Mouir and Thylendri. Even more the reason to have a stable monarch in place."
***
It was not until the day later that Estabon was found dead in the Sala, an arrow through his neck and Srina Fidé was announced as missing two days later. The kingdom went into a frenzy over the death and disappearance of the last two candidates of the throne.
Without a monarch in place, Diertéri was forced to move to Srisci. The walls surrounding the city began to crack, the water inside sloshing about. Earthquakes plagued the city's nights and the ground cracked and separated, allowing lava to flow through.
When the day came, the roots of Srisci's oak trees quivered with anxiousness, then, with the slowness of their age, they formed a spiral staircase from Diertéri ground to the forest floor above. As the people abandoned the city, the walls burst and lava covered the city's ground.
The trees moaned in protest and began to unravel from their shape as the water continued to rise and swallow the staircase, dragging men and women into the water's, now boiling, arms. Their gurgling cries for help were silenced as the oak roots recovered the opening in an intricate weave holding the boiling water of Diertéri underground. The slosh of water and the rock of floating debris bounced and banged against the tightly woven roots.
"Hilé, what will we do now?"
"Hilé, who will rule?"
"Where will we go?"
"We are at war! How will we fight?!"
"We need a ruler!"
"Who will it be?"
The words of Diertéri's people swirled around him, in one ear and out the other. He merely stared at what had once been a great kingdom, now, only dirty faces and burned skin were left.
Tigri sidled up next to him, "They need a ruler; the people trust you."
"They need someone of the royal bloodline to rule them. That is not me."
"There are not any others left with royal blood. If you claim the throne you and your descendants will be the new ruling dynasty."
Hilé glanced back at the people, they had begun to build tents and fires. Men carried buckets of water from the lake and children gathered dry sticks to burn. Their dirty, drawn faces told of the pain that nearly strangled them.
The incessant chatter of brown and black birds grew louder as if they knew what Hilé was going to say.
He lowered his voice to a whisper, "Tigri, I cannot rule." He sighed, "There is a descendant of the royal family that still lives. She is the youngest of the queen's siblings, but very powerful, maybe more so than the queen." He paused, "Her kingdom lies in the east, past Srisci's border and into Lésinna's caves."
"Nothing can survive in Lésinna. There is nothing, but ice and rocks."
"Yes, Tigri, there is nothing good that comes from Lésinna..."
"That's because there is nothing there," Tigri mumbled.
Hilé glared at him before continuing, "But the woman that is there will do us more good than you would believe."
"Who will we send, then?"
An empty smile pulled at Hilé's mouth, "Gahennon. We will send Gahennon."
***
Lésinna was an ocean, not like the warm, clear one in the west, Génna. The waters of Lésinna were cold, a thin layer of ice covered the ocean in shallow places and hung from the doorways of her caves, not a single ray of sun light fell from the gray sky.
The water was free of plants and animals and allowed the waves to tumble and roll without killing inhabitants. Black rocks stood in place of white sand, their jagged edges only becoming sharper with each new wave of erosion.
Lésinna's peninsula was long and pointed, like a sword, it had huge, gaping caves that were loosely congregated along the shore line. Each one held a darkness that seeped into bones and rattled a person's bravery.
From one of these caves a creature lived. A cat-like beast of white fur and blue eyes. Thin gills rested on either side of its throat and black swirls, spells, decorated its head like a crown.
As it left its home the great beast raised its head and sniffed at the still air. A growl rumbled in its chest before turning back and entering another, much larger, cave.
As he stopped inside its entrance he said, 'There is beast amongs our lands,' he growled to the cave's inhabitant. 'Its smell of elves.'
The splash of dripping water and falling pebbles echoed through the gaping hole before the response came.
"Elves. Oh, lovely," a coy voice answered.
'It smell of dirts and woods.'
"Thank you, Níro," she replied, a smile in her voice.
The beast turned to leave and whispered, 'Yes, likes dirts beast. Smell of meat. Yes, meat.' His mouth salivated and stomach rumbled at the thought of food.
"Do not touch the elf, Níro."
'Níro likes eat. Níro likes elves.'
A tinkling laugh followed him as he left the cave, "So do I, Níro."
***Two Days Ago***
Sampson's supplies consisted of five loaves of bread, two pounds of salted meat, a deer skin canteen, a silver long-sword, dagger, and bow and arrows. He wore a thick, black leather cape draped over his shoulders and a wool tunic with loose fit pants that were tucked into black, knee high boots.
"When you reach Lésinna do not stop within its borders to make camp," Hilé placed his hands on Gahennon's shoulders, he could feel the chainmail shirt lay beneath his tunic. "There is a beast that lives with her, if you take too long to find her she will send him to kill you. Make camp in Srisci, then enter Lésinna; find her." He stepped back a few feet, "God speed, Gahennon."
***Present***
The border of Srisci and Lésinna split the land like a scar. A long ago, but healed, battle wound.
It seemed as if Srisci's warm, brown forest floor was being consumed by ice. Leaves, bushes, and trees at the border were frozen, their stems and bark coated in a thick layer of ice. Tree roots bled into the frozen land, cracking, tearing apart sheets of thick ice.
But, Lésinna's frigid air was boxed off. When a breeze swept through Srisci, Lésinna sat motionless. A blizzard blazed across the ocean's shore, but not a flake of snow met Scrisci's land.
Gahennon had made camp there, among the trees that remained unfrozen. Dry sticks were gathered for a fire and a small plot cleared of rocks for a pallet. Now, he repacked his things, leaving the heaviest of luggage tucked beneath a bush. A small satchel slung across his chest held food and water, his dagger hidden in his boot and sword sheathed at his side.
He threw his cape over his shoulders and stepped across the border.
A biting cold stung his cheeks and a strong wind made his cape snap behind him and hold on for dear life. His heavy boots crunched with each step as he walked against the wind towards the shore.
The closer he got, the more rocks he had to kick out of his way, they were too sharp to stand on. Lésinna was smaller than he had imagined, but as he reached the caves of her shore he was met with the sight of thousands of caves, gaping and oozing an inky darkness. His confidence and hope diminished as he stepped into the hold of the first one, drawing his sword.
