Chapter Thirty-Seven

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October 23, 1345.
Cassidy's Fort,
The Queen's Mound,
Imras.

King Hayden of Imras

As Hayden crossed from the rocky mountainous terrain of the Western Mountain range into the smooth grassy floors of North Walsham, he couldn't help the breath of relief that escaped his chest.

Their ride from Imras was anything but smooth and he was only glad he had been able to get Alyn out of harms way.

The battle to the death had taken a toll on him and even now as they continued their ride to intercept Khasi's army from Shiv'ra, the anticipation of the battle to come didn't help ease his weariness.

He couldn't wait for the whole ordeal to be over so life could go back to how it had previously been albeit with slight barriers to his freedom now that he was king.

He looked back at the horde he rode with, a nod from him giving the command that they were to break soon; a small riding party to guide Alyn to Stormhold and a greater part of the now combined barbarian and Imraian army with him.

They must have been a rather strange sight to the smaller people of Myknos; these barbarians towered over the already large men of Imras who towered over the average Myknosian.

He bit back a laugh at the thought and smiled at the welcome distraction his mind brought.

He had been trying not to focus so much on the fact that he was letting Alyn ride off on her own into enemy territory, especially with the little knowledge on how far Khasi's hold had spread, but rather looked ahead to what he could achieve in the forthcoming battle without having to look over his shoulders for Alyn.

They reached the junction in the road where they were to split and good byes were short, limited to nothing more than a look that spoke what they didn't dare speak out for fear of breaking the others courage.

They both knew what had to be done and how little the odds of survival for either of them was.

He sent a nod her way and didn't wait for a response as he dug his heels into his horse's side as they took the road leading South to lay in wait for the golden army.

The chief of the barbarian horde, Vaer Stormborn, bound by his word before the duel rode up beside him and yelled a war cry so loud it shook the ground.

An answering cry came up from the horde behind him and in no time he too was channeling the ancient battle cry of his people long gone unheard since the Great War.

In the long run, he had to thank Khasi for giving him a chance to see what he cared about enough to fight for.

Gone was the aloof Prince that lived in the moment and present was the King that fought for love, friendship and peace.

The pounding of a thousand horse hooves behind him became like music to his ears fuelling him on and lighting his nerves with a does he didn't know he possessed.

Everything became clearer in that moment; the smell of damp earth and see carried by the wind, the powerful muscular contractions of the beast beneath him and the sound of approaching horse hooves.

It seemed they had arrived right on time after all and not a moment too late. The sun moving to its slumber behind the mountains glinted off the golden armor of Shivish soldiers alerting them to the large number riding through the forest.

It pained him to have to work his soldiers even after the ordeal they'd been through earlier in the day but for the sake of the quiet future he wanted with Alyn, he would have to fight even though he sweated blood.

It was with this hope he charged forward, drawing his large broad sword to cross against golden curved swords in a dance of death, victory the only thought on his mind.

I'm so sorry for the super late chappie but yes...the war has begun.

Its going to be action packed from here on out so stay tuned for more fun stuff.

Grab your popcorn and whatnot and maybe some tissues while you're at it.

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Love,
Pearl🌸

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