When the Banshee Whispers

prologue and chapter 1

Prologue

The king leaned in close, wrapping his arms around his eldest son. Carefully he took the boy's hands in his. "Like this," the king said as he changed the angle of the flint and steel in his eldest's hands. The king guided his son Ingo's hands as they struck the flint and steel together. Nothing happened.

"It doesn't make any sense," the boy huffed and slumped back.

"Don't be discouraged," the king laughed. "Things like this take practice."

"That's not what I meant," the boy grunted as he repeatedly struck the pieces together with no success. "Why can't Sir Gunthar just make the fire like he did last night?" He pointed to one of the two guards standing by the doorway of their small cabin.

The king laughed and mussed up his son's hair. "And what would we do if Gunthar wasn't here to light the fire for us?"

Ingo looked over his shoulder at his father and spoke like he was just asked the dumbest question of all time. "Well, then Isac would have to do it," he said pointing at the other guard at the door. The king and both guards let out a good laugh at that and a louder one at the face the boy gave them for laughing.

"Every man should know how to start his own fire," the king said once he stopped laughing. "Keep practicing."

Standing, the king looked around their small cabin. His father had brought him here every summer as a boy. Visiting the small cabin on the edge of the Whisper Wood was one of his favorite memories of his youth and one he was joyous to share with his children.

   The king's second son Alanar sat at his mother's feet playing with his small carved wooden soldiers. The queen rocked back and fourth in an old rocking chair cradling their infant daughter. The king allowed himself a wide smile as he watched them.

"Father, father!" he heard his eldest shouting as he ran across the cabin. The king's smile widened as he watched sparks flying from between the flint and steel as the boy struck them together. "Look father! I did it, I did it!"

"Well done, Ingo," the king smiled down. "But I feel like your sparks might be more likely to light a fire if you did that in the fireplace." The boy gave a mock frown and then laughed before skipping back across the room, pausing as he passed his mother to show her his sparks, careful to keep them away from his sister's face. For such a small boy he's still so conscious, the king thought, feeling proud of his son and heir.

Night had fallen with the gentle ease of the great forest. The royal family ate a simple meal of pheasant and wild berries. All hunted and foraged by the king and his son. The five royal guards rotated through eating quickly and standing guard. Half way through the meal Sir Gunthar opened the door to announce that there was a wolven man asking the king's audience.
The wolven turned out to be a short broad shouldered male with thick brown fur and a scarred snout. He waited respectfully as the king walked out to meet him. The guards stiffened and dropped their hands to their hilts, watching the scarred wolf speak in a slow deliberate voice. The Jurjin empire and the wolven of the Whisper Wood had been at peace for near a decade, but treaties and peace agreements did little to lessen the fear of the forest packs.

The wolven's visit went without incident. Merely bringing word from his alpha that his pack was available for any assistance the royal family would need during their vacation. Sir Gunthar voiced his opinion on the late hour of the visit and the wolven apologized at the misunderstanding of customs. Dusk to the wolves was apparently an hour of honor and respect. The king offered the messenger a drink and a seat on the porch, but the wolven refused and disappeared into the woods.

The hour had grown late and the king sat on his rocking chair on the porch. The same chair his father had sat in all those years ago. His beautiful queen and their three children all slept inside. Sir Gunthar and two other guards stood watch while the remaining two slept as well.