Legend Beyond The Stars by S.E. Gilchrist

Author:S.E. Gilchrist [Gilchrist, S.E.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

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Chapter Twelve

With his arms folded across his armoured chest, Tarak surveyed the gathered council of high Darkon warlords with serious misgiving. With the exception of Lord Barid, whose support he was never entirely sure of, the remainder of those present consisted of warriors anxious to please their royal leader.

He repressed a sigh of resignation. There would be little dissent here to any orders his father decreed—Tarak would need to choose his words with great caution.

His father had ordered the meeting to be held in the royal receiving chamber despite some of the warlords’ complaints about the cold, the lack of lighting and lack of comfortable seating.

After giving his report, Tarak stood a little apart from the others and waited for a response in the heavy silence which was rife with disbelief. He had insisted on ensuring Alana was safe in his chambers before attending the council. An action which had caused a twist of anger to tighten his father’s face and which Tarak, in turn, ignored. He repressed his amusement as he wondered how his father would have reacted if he could have witnessed Alana’s heated arguments about the necessity of her attending the council. In his father’s world, as also in the worlds of the majority of the other warriors present, females were considered breeders. Their opinion was never sought.

His father had certainly never expressed any desire to hear his wife’s opinion or her needs.

His chest tightened as he recalled his mother’s gentle demeanour, how she had grown so quiet since the loss of his baby sister. His sister who had never been … she had been aborted long before this cursed war ever began and he had watched his mother’s life force ebb away. Perhaps if his father had shown her more consideration, had given her comfort, included her in his life …

Never would he treat his female so.

Never would she allow him too. Tarak shuffled his feet impatiently. He wished they would hurry up. What time he had left, he wished to spend with Alana, not mouthing useless protocol.

His boots scraped across the stone floor. His father glared at him for daring to make this intrusive noise. Tarak noted the aggressive flaring of his father’s nostrils and braced himself.

“First you say you have not made contact with the renegade Darkons and therefore, not gained their support. And then,” Lord Rajan, his voice as cold and empty as the pits of Cercis, thumped the stone armrest of the royal throne with his armoured hand. The metal rang loudly in the cavernous room. “Then you say this has not been achieved because you decided to chase after females. Females who despite being an inferior race should have been delivered to Isla immediately. Females, you say, which have cured our impotence.” He barked out an incredulous laugh, raised his hand and shook his clenched fist at his son. “Well, Tarak? Speak!” he shouted.

“I have already spoken.”

“Insolence! If you were not my son, I would have you thrown into the fiery furnace of Elijah,” Lord Rajan hissed.

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