The Wanderer's Path: Return of the Beasts

Chapter 5

Bickering voices bounded between towering pillars etched in silverwork lining the sides of the throne room like a thick silver forest. A blue velvet carpet with golden weaving trailing its outer fringes trailed from the foot of the throne mimicking a dragons tongue. The Image fortified by the sweeping golden wings that grew from the oversized throne, spread wide like a dragon about to land. Curled horns spiralled into the air above the throne. They were said to be broken from the carcass of the demon Bar’thos by legendary human warrior Steinhart the Great, but this was no time for thinking about history.

Kallor glanced at the balconies on the second floor, filled with lords and ladies of the realm, and spies and snitches. His gaze moved back down to the senior positions joining him on the king’s floor in sectioned partitions, each one decorated with silver dragons and historic carvings of mighty battles.

Kallor raised a hand and waited for everyone to fall silent, “the taxes for Tae’iel shall remain the same,” he declared much to the disappointment of the half-elf contingency.

“However, due to the struggles of the recent year’s trade and the necessity of maintaining the armada under Tae’iel’s control, I shall reduce all tariffs on goods from Mendius and also any goods from Tellaniel Liechadimiere.” Kallor noticed Van’ier’s smug smirk as his fellow half-elf lords grumbled at the ruling. That’s right half-elf, I know who truly runs Tae’iel, and I will not forget about the reclusive elves in their ancient forest that you seem to hold so dear. Your sway will be needed, as much as it pains me. As if reading Kallor’s thoughts Van’ier inclined his head in thanks, his bright violet eyes meeting Kallor’s gaze.

“Enough! I shall hear no more on the subject.” Kallor announced silencing the room. When will this be over! Another day of this madness and I shall throw myself out of the sky cage.

“Next to speak your grace, Dream walker Rhul Akalar,” Gordult announced, his voice taking the archaic tone of ritual. Rhul, what do you want? The dream walker rarely spoke at the council, if at all. You’ve made it quite clear all those years ago that you prefer to speak to me whilst I’m asleep. What is it that you would have everyone hear?

“Your grace,” Rhul began in the thick drawling accent of the Amun people. His dusty coloured robes spilled around him as he rose for everyone to see, although many wouldn’t notice his snake like eyes and rounded face they remained buried within the turban wrapped around his head.

“Our lands have forever been sacred to the people of Amun, and we have been humbled by your respect for our holy lands. The deserts of Amun have always been both a curse and a blessing for my people and the Sylix Empire, both unforgiving in its harsh mood swings and sheltering within its embrace.”

“What do you want Dreamwalker?” Kallor asked. I have no time for your rhetoric babbling.

“Soldiers, high king,” Rhul replied. What!  Whispers spread through the room like wildfire. Rhul stood proudly, almost defiantly as he met Kallor’s gaze with a silent confidence that dropped a pebble of unease into Kallor’s otherwise placid lake of certainty.

“What need would Amun have of Empire soldier’s Dreamwalker?”

“The better question is what the Empire needs of Amun, my grace.” The man replied. Do you mock me dreamwalker? You’re as bad as the prophet from yesterday. The silence grew as Kallor refused to speak further; you have not answered my question Rhul.

The Dreamwalker revealed rows of golden teeth as his smile grew. “Tribes of my people have begun vanishing in the desert, whole tribes. I have had several traders come to me, all with stories of coming across horrific slaughters of animals, men, women and children.” The room fell silent as everyone fell under the spell of Rhul’s eerie story, I still don’t see your point Dreamwalker.