Weathered hands slick with nervous perspiration brushed over muscular thighs covered in an expensive beige material that only the richest humans were currently able to acquire. The man's eyes shifted in no particular direction as he pondered his current predicament. There was a reason, he reminded himself. A reason for his treachery. They would all understand soon enough.
In an impatient gesture, he moved to stand from the uncomfortable wooden bench. "Barneus", a musical voice called his attention, the wind suddenly changed direction, bringing its brisk touch to brush gently across the mans greying stubble.
Swiftly his head turned to peer over his broad shoulder as the starch material of his traveling cloak brushed against the strong column of his tan neck uncomfortably. He was late to their customary meeting place and his tardiness caused the older man to be set further on edge. There was no time to rethink; he had come too far to back away now. Setting his shoulders stiffly, Barneus made no move to hide his growing frustrations.
"You're late." he hissed vehemently. The man's large hand moved to cover the hilt of his sword for a fleeting semblance of surety. It worked, but only momentarily.
"It has been done", his hooded adversary spoke calmly, not at all deterred by the older humans obvious venom.
Now facing the strange shadow Barneus caught only a slight glimpse of the telltale features of their elusive species. Birds native to the kingdom of Quaith chirped and sang softly as they flitted benevolently through the blossoming trees. Harvest season meant the suns shone brightly in the cerulean sky, spirits were always lifted with the change of season yet Barneus could find no joy in his surroundings.
With a short nod, Barneus clenched a sweaty palm around the hilt of his sword and watched as his mysterious companion turned gracefully and disappeared into the swarm of blissfully ignorant humans. Barneus clenched his jaw and wished that he too could lose himself to the joy of the season and live in harmony with his fellow citizens.
None of that mattered now, he thought with steely determination, there was a war brewing and the game had only just begun.
YOU ARE READING
The Golden Court
Fantasitick Painted faces glance from behind feathered fans and smile falsely at brutal adversaries. White teeth gleam prettily under candlelit chandeliers. Lies float swiftly through the air and burrow in feeble minds. The game has begun. tock There is a...
