Sons of Ironstorm - Book 4: Griffon's Stand

Seeing Eye to Eye

Shawn's eyes narrowed as a series of symbols dancing along the bottom of his scrying sphere announced Fenoran and Najthin's withdrawal from the northern part of the city, mere moments' ahead of an abysslord counterattack. He waved a hand over the blue globe, twice the diameter of a big man's head, to move the viewpoint to where Ciradaan was leading an assault on the western gate.

"We seem to be in luck, brothers," he announced, looking over his shoulder where Patrik was tending to a number of blunt trauma wounds on Lawrence's massive frame, the eldest Ironstorm somewhat recovered from the rough treatment he had received at Calandris' hands.

"Not only were we able to save the quadan and muraan Scions at the west gate, but Fenoran has also recovered the picean Scion at the north gate."

"Qo'sa shouldn't have even been there," Lawrence growled, a frown on his face as he studied the vista the scrying globe now revealed. "He was supposed to accompany the picean contingent to the Storm Keep, not stay behind for the delaying action."

"And you were supposed to work on keeping the Kaal Eran off Reuthan soil as long as possible instead of practically inviting them in with your challenge of the abysslords," Shawn quickly retorted with a lifted eyebrow. "Strange how things work out, yes?"

"I did what I thought best," Lawrence replied, brushing away Patrik's hands and scribing the last healing rune himself before standing and letting his Wielder armor spin back into existence around him. The Tree Staff leapt with a hum into his gauntleted hand with a thought.

"And as your king, and older brother, I'm above your reproach."

"That's rich." Patrik grimaced as he too climbed to his feet even as Shawn's eyebrow lifted yet further at Lawrence's tone. "We save him from the master of the abysslords and he acts like he's doing us a favor by starting the fight, to begin with." His own Wielder armor spun into being and the Earth Sword settled at his back with a quiet 'snik'.

"We have a word for that in the Easterling. It's called arrogance."

Lawrence spun around to face his younger brother.

"And we have a word for those that question their betters' judgment. It's called insolence," he hissed in return.

Patrik stepped forward almost immediately to go nose to nose with Lawrence, glaring hard through his visor at his older brother who topped him by a good hand. Despite that, the Wielder of the Earth showed no intention of backing down.

"I am the Wielder of the Earth, one of the prophesied saviors of our world and as such your equal, Lawrence. I have fought Tjor'riin, Kaal Eran and abysslords alike and if I were to call any man king, it'd be Seamus Tod of Mamra." The younger Ironstorm leaned in even as Lawrence sputtered with indignation to tap the bigger man's visor with his armored forehead.

"Not you."

Then the two brothers were being pulled apart by Shawn's strong hands.

"The both of you give over," he hissed, giving first Patrik a hard look then Lawrence. "The enemy is over there, destroying that city in case either of you had noticed. Not looking you in the face right here, on this hilltop. I suggest the both of you remember that."

"So," Lawrence growled, "you're joining your brother in rebellion against me? I'll have both of your heads for this ..."

The blow that robbed Lawrence of most sensation and dropped him immediately to his knees he didn't even see coming. Nor did he see which runes were spun that then stripped him of his armor and pulled the Tree from his hands. One moment he was standing there, glaring at his two younger brothers whom he hadn't known of until this very day. And in the next he was down on all fours, head swimming as he fought to remain conscious, his body echoing with pain.