Sons of Ironstorm - Book 3: New Alliance

Shaman and Monarchs

Kem'gast paced uneasily in front of the throne, hands clutched behind his back. At hand was his trk, sheathed and lying on the cushions of the massive chair, ready if he needed it. His broad shoulders strained at the leather shirt he wore over his chain mail hauberk, the pale tan marked at the breast with the claw and hammer shield of Ru'un on his breast overtop crossed sabers. He wore baggy breeches in dark brown, his tunic belted over it to hold both in place, a heavy bladed dagger in the small of his back where he could reach it and throw in the same motion. Heavy boots of the finest Wroclaw leather completed the picture of the muraan king at his leisure.

But there was nothing leisurely in his jerky pacing, the tension of a hundred tendays of unremitting turmoil for his kingdom working its way through his limbs.

<Majesty,> Iz'ak smoothly began as he stepped through the door to bow. <Captain of your personal guard, the Silver Lions, Mram'met.>

<About time,> Kem'gast growled, halting in front of the dais to turn and face the door. And immediately he felt some of the tension knotting his thick neck and shoulders ease when his most trusted friend, advisor and champion strode through the door.

Seeing the grim look on his friend's face however made the smile blooming on the muraan monarch's lips falter.

<You don't look happy,> he observed after Mram'met saluted smartly before pulling off his cloak and handing it to a trailing Iz'ak. Mram'met's whiskers twitched and his muzzle wrinkled.

<I don't feel happy, your Majesty,> the tawny giant rumbled, folding his thick arms over his barrel chest. <I've gathered some prisoners in my travels that have me more than a little bewildered.>

<Prisoners?> Kem'gast's ears slid back at Mram'met's tone. <Bewildered?? I expect more of an explanation from the captain of my guard, Mram'met.>

At the clattering sound from the hallway beyond the doors into the throne room, Mram'met nodded.

<You're about to get it, Majesty.>

Looking past his captain of the guard to the door, Kem'gast's eyes narrowed. Then flung open wide when Hhe'muk led in the four humans.

<What ... what are these?> the big muraan king managed to rasp. Despite his surprise, his ears were nearly popping off his head, so alert were they, his whiskers so taut they could've punched through stone.

<Humans,> Mram'met supplied. <I caught them in the Tnech'me'hecht, just south of Ba'hachet's capital at Lavroth'bel.>

Kem'gast managed to pull his eyes from the four, standing proudly despite the bonds holding their hands behind their backs and the ropes hobbling them at the ankles. The hardest to draw his eyes from was the largest of them, a dark creature as tall and powerful as any of his warriors and carrying an air of danger and purpose around it like a cloak.

<Spies?>

Mram'met snorted his own disbelief.

<I doubt even Ba'hachet would be foolish enough to use creatures easily picked from any crowd. Merely riding in the back of the wagon that brought them here has gathered a mob of curious onlookers in front of your gates.> His ears twitched in annoyance. <Quite the spectacle.>

Kem'gast curled his lips thoughtfully as he returned his gaze to the humans.

<Do you think the humans seek to cross the Rift and invade and have sent scouts ahead of their force?>

Mram'met's whiskers stiffened. He hadn't thought of that. He glanced over at his brother, who now wore a thoughtful expression as well. Apparently the possibility of invasion had escaped Hhe'muk as well.