When the Banshee Whispers

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Fighting the wolven in the Whisper Wood is a lot like tossing a mongoose blindfolded into a den of cobras.

I sulked through the dark forest whetting my swords on the bones of the wolven tribes. Not wanting to jeopardize Jurgin's own treaty with the tribes the talons were never officially in the wood. Our orders were simple. Support the warriors of the other three kingdoms in their fight to earn the alphas' respect and don't let the wolves know who you are.

It was during the year I spent below that high canopy, while I cut my way through wardogs and alphas alike, that I met Reidar Halvdan, the man who would become the river lion. Even before the fire drake melted the right half of his face, Halvdan was a terrifying man. The senior talon was tall and lanky. His skeletal face made him look like the reaper himself as he cut his way through wolven.

All the while the letters never stopped coming. Cara continued to write me almost every day. I never wrote back. I didn't want to tell her what I was doing. Sneaking into wolven camps in the dark of night. Butchering and assassinating.

It didn't take long for me to grow a reputation among the other talons and warriors. I cursed when I read the letter where Cara said that there were stories moving throughout Jourhold of a talon prince that was more of an animal than the wolven he fought.

When we finally received the orders that we were to return to Jurgin I let out a deep sigh of relief. When they told us we were being immediately sent to Eysteinn to quell a rebellion that was threatening to pour over onto Jurgin lands I dropped to my knees.

Butchering the wolven was giving me nightmares. Now I was going to be butchering men.

* * *

In the day following the bandit attack the group seemed more content to leave me my space at the head of the road. It was as it always was. Men would always see the dead girl, fragile and small. They'd never the dead vampire that had every intention of killing and eating them while her father and his gang rummaged though their valuables.

Drenden it seemed had taken a liking to the young guard Kyte. Every dusk in the short time where there was still enough light to see but not enough to harm Drenden the two would go off and target shoot. Often Norton or Lammar would join them, laughing and joking while they shot and Etara reloaded the guns.

Kyte's hand still shook every time he touched a gun, but he was starting to hit the target nearly half the time. So he was improving.

Drenden would tease them with his skill. A great shot while he was still human, Drenden's enhanced eyesight and unwavering hands made him literally inhumanly good.

Finn and Norton bonded when the knight learned that the prince apparently shared both his distaste for firearms and his obsession with horses. He would often help Sir Gunthar in Finn's nightly trainings.

The prince had some natural talent and was very graceful with his narrow blade. It was obvious in his eyes that the blade had yet to taste blood. He held the sword like it carried the potential of a thousand adventures. Instead of the souls of the men he'd killed.

At noon of the next day we neared the center of the small corner of Eystienn one had to travel to reach Romildan lands from Jurgin. Our silent march was interrupted when the prince started shouting.

"Stop!" he yelled, "Ghostmaker!" I turned quickly half expecting someone to be dying for all the noise he was making. I wasn't far off. Everyone was stopped and looking behind them at the glowing valkyrie at the tail of our caravan.

Amalina stared off to the east, her skin and eyes glowing white and blue. The god's had called on her, someone was going to die. I looked around carefully and sure enough found Buttercup standing next to Whiplash. She to looked to the valkyrie.