Sons of Ironstorm - Book 4: Griffon's Stand

Chapter 10: Unexpected Allies

"His unmoving body before him, Karsor'met grieved.

Yet he would not yield his protective place over him.

Though Iezar, youngest son of Aecalyx, the First Man

Had fallen, Karsor'met's friendship for him had not.

So he granted final protection as battle swirled about them."

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

His senses slowly returning to his command, Mram'met felt his eyes flutter open. Only to discover they gazed at the booted foot of a muraan warrior standing guard over him.

<Good,> a hard female voice grated from somewhere in front of him. <You're finally awake. Welcome to Isile'vorudun, Mram'met, Captain of the Silver Lions.>

Hearing his name spoken with such derision that it sent a cold chill racing up his spine, the powerful muraan warrior made to move as if to rise. And quickly discovered he lacked the strength, his body howling in silence with various wounds and evidence of poor treatment at the hands of his captors.

<Don't bother trying to stand, captain,> the voice continued, her hatred of the battered warrior obvious in every venom-dripped word. <Darlok would only knock you on your face again. You see, I find that I quite enjoy having the fabled Captain of the Silver Lions, a warrior without peer and whose loyalty to that fool Kem'gast is above question, lying abased at my feet.>

Mram'met closed his eyes as hope suddenly died in his heart. It could only be Dani'cheris herself speaking, the queen of Isile'vorudun known for her dislike of Ru'un's monarch. However, her hatred had always been more of a professional thing, a courtesy between warring rulers that had walked the path of muraan honor. 

To hear it moving past honor and into the realm of personal hatred meant their efforts to carry Kem'gast's missive to her faced a much greater risk of failure. Then, with an abrupt surge of will, he forced his eyes back open and strength into his limbs. Despite this turn for the worse, he was honor-bound to report to the queen that she now had dark soldiers roaming her streets and killing her soldiers. An enemy she may be, but the Tjor'riin were enemies of all mortal races that professed to walk under the Light, the muraan of Isile'vorudun included.

As if she knew his mind, Dani'cheris again began to speak, prefacing her words with a curt, humourless laugh.

<Of course, I might want you to stand so you can look into the face of the female about to send her new fleet up the Horus to burn that cluster of hovels Kem'gast calls a southern capital down to the ground. Yes, I think I might like to see how your whiskers and muzzle would twitch upon hearing that. Darlok?>

A big fist knotted itself around Mram'met's war braid and he had to hurry and find his hands and knees beneath him before Darlok, the owner of the boot he had first seen upon opening his eyes, pulled it out of his head. One eye swollen shut so he couldn't use it, Mram'met used the other to quickly look around as soon as Darlok, a brutally large male with black fur and multiple scars on his muzzle, let go of his braid. And found himself in a throne room much like Kem'gast's in distant Ru'un'fa'gek.

Triangular, with the base behind him, the throne room's two sides swept in towards a truncated top where Dani'cheris had her throne of gilded stone sitting on a triangular dais. Squinting to see past injury-created blur, Mram'met could see Isile'ahkanak's lights spreading out across the island on either side through tall, rectangular windows that stretched from tiled floor to vaulted ceiling marching the length of the side walls. The room appeared to have been constructed, as Mram'met assumed the rest of the palace was, with massive sandstone blocks, cut and polished by artisans to fit seamlessly together. The walls had been decorated with tapestries and curtains in colours that complimented the subtle shift in hue and tone present in the ceramic tile underfoot.