Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

On the Giant's Way

Several days' travel east on the Giant's Way found the short caravan of wagons that streamed out of the capital at the king's command. Flanking them on either side were a company of the King's Horse, joining them after a brief pause at Tal Karabe, a fortified loyalist holding two days' east on the Giant's Way. To say the cavalry soldiers, drawn from the finest of the Northern Command, were a welcome sight to the handful of Queen's Own guarding the caravan would've been a vast understatement.

Unfortunately the cavalry soldiers, with their bright breastplates and lances at a perfect 90 degree angle, were nearly lost this day in a thick fog bank that rose from damp ground sometime in the early Watches of the morning to completely surround them in a thick, damp blanket of gray. Only the steady drum of shod hooves on cobblestone marked them keeping pace with the caravan as it pushed on through the fog to the east.

Hidden the cavalry was, but their eyes were sharp in keeping watch on the wagon in the caravan's midst, a beautiful coach pulled by four snow white stallions, each one from the finest of Aramas stock, a gift from the great stables of Tal Janux and its horse lord, the venerable Lord Staap. The carriage they pulled was carved by hand from the dark woods of Keva, rolling silently on greased hubs in elegant contrast to the plodding wagons around them, which were pulled by thick-shouldered tunda. 

 With the silver and blue shield of Talemon on the door, carved windows covered with curtains of silk overlooking both sides of the carriage, the coach was piloted by two soldiers of the Queen's Own, the queen's personal bodyguard. Their characteristic silver and purple livery was pulled over thick surcoats and tunics, marking them clearly in the mist-filled air despite thick cloaks draped around muscular shoulders as proof against the damp chill. Two more rode where the footmen usually sat, grim women with crossbows close at hand as they stared hard around them into the gloom, the heavy horse surrounding them notwithstanding.

In all, both the impromptu escort of heavy horse and the silver and purple of the Queen's Own bespoke to the importance of this carriage's passengers.

"Are we there yet?" young Princess Shiana asked from where she sat fidgeting on the padded rear bench. The spunky six cycle-old was dressed warmly in a woolen dress of dark blue, a heavy cloak draped over her shoulders as proof against the damp and her long brown hair was tied back into a practical braid. Beside her, her twin brother Shawn carefully examined the long poniard one of the drivers had lent him, his tousled brown hair cut short in the manner of the men of Keva. He too was dressed warmly, wearing a heavy tunic of blue, woolen breeches and sturdy leather boots, a cloak also resting around his shoulders.

"You just asked that a turn ago," he dryly pointed out without taking his keen, dark brown eyes off the long-bladed weapon and his sister harrumphed before leaning over to pull back the curtains.

Smiling at her twins' antics, their slender faces marked with their father's dark, good looks, Jeorgina Ironstorm gently rocked the latest addition to Humanity's oldest House, baby Michael, the newborn warmly wrapped in a blanket of the richest indigo blue, silver griffons stitched into the fabric. Her youngest was only a handful of tendays' old, a spring baby born as the snows were beginning to melt from the Aramas, but Michael was already a content and happy child, at ease in taking the long journey to the Keep of Storms in his family's company.

As for the royal mother herself, Jeorgina carried nary a sign of the labor or pregnancy on her classically beautiful face, strong enough to travel a mere tenday after giving birth. It was a strength befitting a queen of kevan heritage, noble and capable, qualities bred long into the ancient lines of Kevan noble Houses. As both queen and kevan, this day she was dressed in a beautiful yet functional dress of the finest wool.  Woven by the finest weavers in all Talemon, and dyed the same blue as Michael's blanket, the dress was belted about the waist with a belt of glove-soft leather dyed such a dark blue it was almost black.