Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Last Words

Slowly Bethane stood, his face composed and his eyes hard as they swept the crowded tiers of the Chamber. He threw back his cloak as he did so, to clearly reveal the black armband he wore around his left bicep.

"Lords and Ladies of the Chamber,"  he began, his voice reaching to every corner of the circular room with its sober rumble. "I have called this emergency session of the Chamber to bring you all the darkest of news. King Jerald Ironstorm of Talemon, is dead."

As whispers rippled over the assembly, the powerful lord paused to glance at a parchment he held in his hands, the words bearing the fine style of none other than Jorge Ironstorm, the king's brother.

"Jerald Ironstorm passed away early yesterday evening of wounds taken during the siege of Ur Morun. Despite all efforts, both magical and medicinal, he was unable to recover and gave up the fight in company of friends and family." The scrap of parchment disappeared into a big fist before Bethane clasped his hands behind his back.

"Jerald was a good man, a fair man. A man of honor and integrity. And he was a good king. Despite my personal feelings, I both admired and respected him for what he did for Talemon and her people. He will be sorely missed. Long live the king!"

"Long live the king!"  the assembly echoed in almost unanimous accord.

Bethane cleared his throat.

"Unfortunately I'm not here to eulogize Jerald Ironstorm, as much as he deserves it. He will receive the words that give him proper respect at his entombment. In the meantime, we are here to discuss a matter of importance that now falls to us with his passing: the governance of Talemon. While House Ironstorm mourns its lost son, and through the transition period until Queen Jeorgina properly assumes the throne, the Chamber has the responsibility of ensuring our great nation continues its path towards peace and prosperity. With the Westmarch decisively ended with the fall of Ur Morun and the capture of the traitor Urud Phykus, our task becomes far simpler. But we still have Urud's trial, as well as that of his captured generals, including Eras Grimnor, once a member of this Chamber, to take care of. Additionally, we have an ongoing war in Hernak that will need our attention."

The big lord paused to make a gesture and several lords down on the floor, including Cadmon, stood.

"So, without further ado, and in accordance to the protocols and traditions handed down over the generations with regards to the governance of the Chamber in such times, I present these lords who will preside over the committees that will handle the task of governing Talemon. I begin with myself, as senior lord of this Chamber, taking upon myself the duties of Oversight, to insure all decisions made by the committees will be in accordance to Talemonese law and future prosperity. To Lord Horst, I give the duty of Minister of War, to oversee our continuing efforts in the Hammer. To Lord Cadmon, I give the duty of Minister of Justice, to oversee the lawful prosecution of those captured in the Westmarch. And to Lord Vokker, I give the duty of, . . . "

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The solitary figure, dressed from head to two in unrelenting black, was almost lost in the vastness of the great hall as he stood beside a massive slab of cold, polished marble, a shroud-covered body laying in its center. A flickering candle on each of the slab's four corners illuminated the body, the only light in the midst of the hall's shadowy darkness.

It had been five days since his brother had moved beyond the mortality of this world and into the blessed light of the next and still Jorge felt the loss as if it had just happened. Five days in which the once great and powerful king of Humanity's largest kingdom on Reutha lay in state for his grieving people to see, paying their last respects to the man who had given them all something they once thought they would never see again: freedom.

And five days to allow for the reality of their loss, and the situation it created, to sink into the hearts of those who now ruled Talemon. Even as he stood before Jerald's bier, the Chamber was engaged in an emergency, closed-door session, the ruling lords of Talemon debating the motion that Jeorgina herself had tabled. A motion that asked them to expedite the transition and recognize her immediately as Queen and rightful ruler of Talemon until Lawrence could come of age.

By the very fact the Chamber needed debate on Jeorgina's ascension to the Star of Aramas suggested the landed lords and ladies of Talemon weren't eager to give up the power to govern Talemon as protocol and law dictated they take upon the king's death. A wry chuckle nearly escaped Jorge as he considered that. 'And how was that different from any other time in the Chamber?'  he silently mused. Then any further consideration was momentarily overcome with the emotions and thoughts that poured renewed and unceasingly through him. Thoughts and memories too, of a different time, a time when the throne of Talemon seemed so far away and their youth was filled with dreams of glory and adventure beyond the icy marches of their home.

"I'm going to sail the seas and see the world, Jorge!"  a young Jerald, newly come to his ninth cycle, declared as he slouched in Festus' old leather chair, deep in the King of Keva's study. Jorge chuckled from where he sat against a thick stone wall, deep and plush carpets heaped around him against the chill of night, heirlooms from a different time, the time known as the Age of the Alliance.

"Aye, and I'll be king of Talemon,"  he snorted with a laugh. "Nobody's sailed all the seas, Jerald, not even the men of Septus and Mamra."

"So? I'll just have to be the first!"  the slender youth declared, springing out of the chair with an explosion of energy. Always sensitive to the ebb and flow of his brother's moods, that explosion quickly swept up Jorge as a powerful vision of frontiers and unconquered lands that stretched before them, ripe for the taking, filled his inner eye.

"Then I'll go too!"  he shouted, leaping to his feet and sending rugs a-tumble. Then they both burst out laughing at the chaos they had caused.

Through a haze of tears Jorge looked down at Jerald's pale face, now still in death.

"Who will sail with me now?"  he whispered hoarsely. "Who will help me conquer the unconquered, explore the unexplored?" But the only reply he got was the hiss and sputter of the tallow candles.

From a small door in the side of the hall, a druid noiselessly slipped into the dim chamber to quickly pad over to where the Ironstorm prince silently stood beside the bier. As he bowed, his thick black robes of mourning, matching Jorge's dark attire, swirled around him in a silent dance.

"Your Highness,"  came the druid's deep somber voice, one Jorge recognized as belonging to one of Alric's closest aides. "The Rector has finished his preparations and prayer. The entombment ceremony is about to begin."

Jorge acknowledged the druid's words with a nod and the druid, after bowing once again, quickly retreated back to the door through which he had entered. As the dark robes disappeared, the door soundlessly closing behind them, the solemn man turned back to the bier and placed a hand on his brother's still shoulder.

"Let it be done,"  he quietly said. Then he turned and quickly walked out of the main hall of the Church of the Sun to the waiting crowds outside.

As he reached the main doors to the hall, he paused once more to look back at the candle-lit bier in a final salute before he stepped out through a small door set in the midst of one of the larger portals. The great doors that led into the heart of the Church's main hall were so large and unused it would take eight strong men to push one open. Immediately the warmth of a springtime sun strove to drive the chill of the main hall out of his bones as he stepped clear of the sally port's threshold. And, almost in after thought, Jorge looked over his shoulder at the great Church of the Sun, its gray mass rising behind him.

'Protect his soul and guide it into your embrace, blessed Creator,'  he silently prayed as he stared hard at the massive building rising behind him. 'A nation has lost its king and I have lost a brother. And I fear neither will survive his premature absence!'

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