Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Chapter 22: A Fated Company

"Believers and Disbelievers both will they be.

Men and women of honor, strength and virtue.

Of vision, courage and desire.

Chosen from many to carry the burden.

Heroes all, a Fated Company."

- from Cephanon's 'Ruminations', ch.4 

Ciramax barely stirred from his perch high up on the western wall when Xanedra joined him shortly after evening watch had been rung from the bell high atop the great tower of Sulin's main keep. An experienced tracker, she made no sound other than the soft hiss of leather on stone as her hunter's boots strode across the walkway's stone ledge. Finding a notch between two heavy blocks of weathered granite, the Lithosin warrior wedged herself in beside her friend. Nodding in greeting, Ciramax then turned back to gazing at the setting sun, its final brilliance brushing the growing globe of Rimnor with a soft golden gild. In his hand was an opened leather tube, its unfurled contents in his other.

For a long moment the two friends sat silent, the light evening breeze tousling their hair and rustling their casual clothing as they gazed out into space, their thoughts heavy and troubled. It had been two days since Ciramax and his company had returned from the Sylvar pon Lithos with the young human. Two days filled with nervous anticipation as they awaited word from Aerlorn about the Var Ethisdil's invitation to Elvenfast.

<<Still no word from your father?>> Xanedra finally spoke, breaking the silence.

<<No,>> Ciramax replied, not taking his eyes away from the sunset. <<Not by messenger bird or by griffon courier; nothing yet to tell us which way my father wants us to go with this thing.>>

<<Too bad,>> the big Lithosin mused with a slight smile. <<Sounds like one party I don't want to miss for all the gold in the Sovun'chul!>>

<<Party?>> A wry grin touched the wiry prince's lips as he twisted to look at his long time friend. <<A meeting with this 'Var Ethisdil' to discuss the very fate of our entire people? Only you could think of that as a party to me, my friend.>>

<<That sounds like typical Sylvasin pessimism to me, Max,>> Xanedra retorted with a wink and a grin of her own, folding muscular arms over her chest. <<Whatever the Var Ethisdil intends, inviting the known elven world to Elvenfast, it sounds like a pretty damn fine adventure to me, all wrapped up with a bow and dropped into our very laps. Burn me to ash but we'd be fools not to want to be involved. Fate of the Elves or no.>> As Ciramax looked back out at the setting sun with a soft chuckle and a shake of his head, the big elf pressed on.

<<Just think, Max, we've an opportunity here to do something no warrior has done for over a millennia: make a difference. I mean, who knows what the meeting with the Var Ethisdil will yield. Another great alliance, maybe, or more hidden prophecies concerning the future and the Elves. Burn me, maybe even a battle plan to fight whatever nightmare this Utterance is promising will descend upon us. Who knows?>>

<<Aye, more war,>> Ciramax grunted, his smile fading. <<I'm sure that'll make you stone elves happy as a troll in muck.>>

<<As it should any elf, my fine friend. Unless, of course, you've had your fill of it, General Ciramax, hero of almost as many battles as me.>>

The grin reappeared on Ciramax's lips.

<<Nay, I've a little room yet for a good tussle or two.>> His look grew serious. <<No, what weighs on my mind, Xan, is the possibility that this thing is far bigger than we realize.>> He held up the scroll from the leather tube he had been holding.