Banshee's Vengeance by Shaylynn Rose

Author:Shaylynn Rose
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ylva Publishing
Published: 2015-11-20T00:00:00+00:00

There was a grand celebration, of course. Visiting monarchs were not so ordinary that Lyssera could get away with a simple public greeting. No, her entire court had to turn itself out and show the so-called “barbarians” of the south how elves treated their honored guests. Following a grand feast, the major players in the upcoming northern campaign met to hear the strategy that would be presented to them by their newly mantled warleader.

Seated around the table were Padreg of Y’Nor; his consort-to-be, Elisira Glinholt; Ambassador Iften Windstorm of Y’Skan; his vice-ambassador, Kirthos; Ambassador Kuwell Longhorn of Y’Dror; Lord Jantis Morgan, the former warleader of Y’Syr; and the members of Lyssera’s council, including Lady Sidar and Lord Bethelsel. To represent the temple of the Twain, Starseeker Vashyra and Stardancer Kyrian were also in attendance.

For Kyrian, being included in the proceedings was quite strange, but she was here at Azhani’s request. It was nice to be able to greet a friend she had not seen for several days.

“It’s good to see you up and about, Granther,” she said quietly, giving Iften a gentle kiss on his weathered cheek.

“You did not think I would absent myself from the entertainment, did you?” he asked with a merry smile. “After all, as ambassador I have at my disposal a considerable retinue of, shall we say, young men and women with a fondness for weapons that might find themselves happy to display their prowess under the command of a famous warleader like Azhani Rhu’len.”

“A clever way to circumvent any political maneuverings on the part of your queen, old man,” Lord Bethelsel grunted. “I like it. Azhani,” he bellowed then. “This fool just tossed a couple handfuls of desert grit into your machine. Way I see it, that just might keep most of those soft easterners on their toes.”

Lady Sidar bristled. “Surely you are not implying that those of the east are incapable of fighting, my lord.”

“It is not a matter of if they can fight, my lady,” he replied blandly, “but whether that battlefield be draped in silk or dirt.”

Lady Sidar scowled. “I assure you, my lord, that they are more than passingly familiar with the notion of a true warfare. Unlike our friends of the west, we train for something besides stealing cows.”

As Lord Bethelsel began to glower, Azhani neatly stepped in. “My lord, do you have the reports I asked for?”

Startled, he looked away from Lady Sidar and then nodded. “Aye, Warleader.” He shoved a collection of scrolls toward her. “Though what you’d want with our snow tallies for the last two winters I’ve no clue.”

“I like to be prepared,” she said calmly, then turned to Iften. “Your people will be very welcome, Ambassador, but please do remind them that snow is cold and rain is wet.”

The ambassador roared with laughter. “Aye, Warleader, I shall make sure they understand that they should mimic their northern brethren, no matter how strange it may seem to wrap themselves in layers of smelly fur.”

Azhani snorted. “And you, Kuwell—are your people are ready as well?”

“Aye,” he said with a broad smile.

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