Banshee's Vengeance (The Tales of Y’Myran Book 2) by Shaylynn Rose

Author:Shaylynn Rose [Rose, Shaylynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ylva Publishing
Published: 2015-12-08T07:00:00+00:00

“Then perhaps you will be blessed by Astariu and they will choose to take a different road together,” Kyrian said as the three new friends wandered over to a wine seller’s cart.

In time, they arrived at Oakheart. They were met by Queen Lyssera’s chatelaine, who took charge of Padreg and his entourage, leading them to their rooms while Azhani went off to meet with the captains of Lyssera’s guard in order to discuss battle plans.

Kyrian wrapped her courage around her like a shield and went to visit Starseeker Vashyra about a rather delicate matter that needed to be resolved before they went north.

Having lost her baton in the struggle with Kasyrin Darkchilde’s shade, Kyrian discovered she felt almost naked without the comforting weight of the weapon at her side. Though she chose not to seek battle, if one found her, she intended to be able to stand as strong as any of Azhani’s soldiers.

“Ah, friend Kyrian,” Vashyra said, holding her arms out in welcome as she entered the temple sanctuary. “It is good of you to visit.”

“Thank you, Priestess,” she replied, bowing deeply. When she straightened, she smoothed her hands over the front of her robes, trying to soothe away her nerves, and said, “I-I am here to request a new baton.”

A stardancer’s baton was a special object. In fact, most average Y’Myrani had no clue as to the exacting specifications the followers of the Twain used to craft the deceptively simple weapons. Sages studied them, blacksmiths spent years perfecting them, and yet only a few were ever made each year, for they were fitted to the wielder. This meant that no two batons were ever alike, though they all bore a similar form. Each had to be crafted to the wielder’s needs, for each must serve their bearer without causing them to stumble in the Dance while still being strong enough to crush a man’s skull if need be.

Vashyra nodded. “I’ve been expecting you. Come.” Leaving the sanctuary, they made their way to the temple armory. Here they found racks of swords, maces, and other armaments meant for the brotherhood of itinerant scholars who pledged themselves to Astarus, but none of the old trunks or chests yielded a rune-scribed baton blank.

Kyrian sighed. “I should have been more careful with the one I had.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Vashyra said gently. “You acted as you should have, and your reward should be pride, not shame. I will simply have a new baton made for you and that will be that.”

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