Die Young by Shank Morgan

Author:Shank, Morgan [Shank, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Morgan Shank
Published: 2024-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

T he ship rounded the cluster of islands beside Adam. These were largely unpopulated, and Itula only saw a few villas scattered across their hills. The buildings were marbled and glossy, catching the sunlight with brilliant glows. She guessed they were a form of watch for the Ulvan King, judging by the fact that he possessed no walls or keep to speak of.

Indeed, nothing seemed to signify the presence of royalty. The Lhorian captain could’ve steered them toward an ordinary shoreline—a cove where the beach rose toward verdant grasses and wildflowers. Maples and birch trees dotted the expanse, but Itula also saw stripes of sheer black. Volcanic soil covered these islands, and she’d heard that some of their mounts were still active.

She looked up from the beach, following the rising hills toward the summit. More villas crowded there, bunched in an imperious array, but with no high ramparts or bright banners. Perhaps the Ulvans resembled the Freytilian tribes in that regard; their leaders required nothing flashy, merely the loyalty of their people. The chieftains didn’t hold themselves in separate keeps or behind stone walls, isolated from their brethren and stoking their paranoia.

The captain raised the royal standard as the newlyweds and their guards—including Magon—watched from the prow. The deck fell into a terse silence as the flags snapped in the salty air.

Now that they drew closer, Itula saw a tiny dock behind granite boulders that held a few boats. Torches on poles flickered in the breeze, and wind chimes tinkled alongside them. The poles offered a skeletal railing with no handholds between them, and she drifted closer to the bow after hearing Magon ask the prince about the torches.

“The Ulvans believe in Aysha, creation’s song,” Kellus said. “They’re meant to continue the song until the dragons return, and they believe the song plays through nature’s elements. Wherever you go in the isles, you’ll usually find torches, windchimes, or fountains.”

“Sounds expensive,” Magon said.

“Ulvans prioritize vigilance, and it helps them protect their islands. It’s part of the reason they were never conquered.”

“And the rest of the reason?”

Kellus eyed Magon. “I think you’ll figure it out.”

Five people descended a foot trail from the villas. Four wore scaled armor that rippled with sunlight. Helms curved around their faces to expose their eyes and carve their expressions into steel caricatures of malice. They held long spears that planted like walking sticks, aiding their passage, while in their other hands they carried rounded shields embossed with a cyclical pattern of ocean waves that tumbled in a constant, uninhibited flow. Gouts of fire, rounded hills, and drafts of wind crested those waves, possibly representing the Ulvan elements.

A different man walked amid the guards. His garments wrapped over his shoulder and stretched across his chest before bunching around his waist and covering his legs. He wore no crown or adornments, merely the purple robes that contrasted his bronzed skin. He did bear a sword at his hip, and its buckle cinched the rest of his clothing together. The sword was shorter than what Itula would’ve imagined—only half the length of Magon’s.

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