Sons of Ironstorm - Book 3: New Alliance

Chapter 27: King of Cats

"Korro'seth hewed his way free of the dark tangle,

the demons thick about him, foul beasts with bloody intent.

He espied Aesthegon, the elven High King, his golden armor

fouled, and Aecalyx, the Master of Humanity in silvery chain,

standing together.

He roared in defiance of the Shadow and cut his way to their

side."

- from the Korro'seth Cycle, a verbal history of the First Muraan 

Dark and brooding, Kem'gast, King of Ru'un, Master of the Horus, and Hunt Leader of the Jo'uru Clans, threw a hard look at his shamanic advisor and barely throttled the impulse to pull a dagger from his belt and throw it at him. Instead he extended his claws and let them rake gratingly over the polished steel arms of his throne, their grinding rasp working to dissipate his frustration to some small level.

<Unrest in the ether, you say,> he growled, leaning out of the throne's padded leather embrace to fix the shaman with another amber-eyed glare. <News you give me after I learn my governors in the southern provinces are in rebellion and the north stands under threat of war from Na'kern and Hach'zaduth.> He clenched a fist so tightly the knuckles popped loudly, almost echoing in the vast throne room.

<Anything else you wish to share with me, Master Teder'ach?>

The graying shaman, dressed in the heavy dark blue robes of his order with their mystic and animalist symbols stitched in silver across every seam and fold, leaned on his staff and shook his head 'no' with enough force to make the charms and amulets tied to the staff's top jingle. His rheumy eyes were wide as they returned Kem'gast's hard look, too frightened to look into those amber flames yet knowing that the lash awaited him if he turned away. Not that Kem'gast was known to put many into the brace in Traitor's Court, but considering the mood the war king currently stood in, the possibility that a shaman, and a master one at that, could be put in the brace was definitely increasing with each day of turmoil and upheaval.

Kem'gast stared at the shaman a moment longer, the bowed shoulders quavering from the effort of returning his gaze. Then, as abruptly as he had leaned forward, he leaned back, his eyes becoming heavy lidded in a studied expression of nonchalance, his ears swung forward and his whiskers loose.

<Very well. You may leave, master shaman. Go back to your potions and twittering crystals, returning only when the ether delivers better news for Ru'un.>

Shivering with relief, the shaman bowed low, his amulets once again dancing on his staff before turning to go, struggling not to run across the polished granite tiles that covered the throne room floor. His shoulders were hunched as if he could feel Kem'gast's eyes boring into his back, the muraan war king watching the shaman until the bowed old muraan stepped between the uniformed warriors at the throne room doors some fifty paces distant and disappeared beyond.

<Unrest in the ether,> a low voice rumbled and Kem'gast looked up to find his eldest son, Gar'kast stepping out from behind the throne's polished steel and gold mass, hands held thoughtfully behind his back.

Taking mostly after his father, Gar'kast was a monster of a male, shoulders as broad as a yoke, arms thick as some male's legs and legs like tree trunks. Yet, for all his size, Gar'kast was viper-fast, agile and sure, able to balance on a hand span worth of planking while fending off attacks from warriors on either side. Kem'gast had witnessed his son's skills himself in a battle against Na'kern troops in Juros Province two cycles ago, when the Matriarch attempted to take three vital iron mines from him at spring's transformation into summer. It had filled the war king with great pride to see Gar'kast becoming such a skilled and able warrior, the dark gray muraan prince a picture of focused intensity with the dark markings on his face gathering the internal fire from his emerald green eyes and sending it blazing forth.