Orion: The Vaults of Winter by Darius Hinks

Author:Darius Hinks [Hinks, Darius]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781849702003
Amazon: 1849702004
Barnesnoble: 1849702004
Publisher: Games Workshop
Published: 2012-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

‘My own mother wouldn’t know me now!’ cried Finavar, turning on the spot with his arms raised. ‘Even if I had one!’

The wardancers were standing by the side of a small, glittering brook, on the borders of the Council Glade. They were close enough to hear snatches of song and harping, but they had been denied entry to the Queen’s court. Even Finavar’s most winning smile had failed to sway the stern-faced sentries. It seemed that his uninvited appearance earlier in the day had earned him enemies.

Alhena was crouched like a cat on a branch above his head. ‘Why are we wasting time here?’ She tugged angrily on her single plait. ‘Locrimere needs us.’ She sneered and looked south through the trees. ‘Our home is in the hands of Eremon. What hope is there in that?’

Finavar waved proudly at his disguise. He had removed his distinctive black cloak and painted his entire body white. He had also fashioned a mask from bark and painted that white. The outfit was completed by a leering, red, toothy grin, painted across the mask. ‘But am I not the perfect Bel-Geddon?’

Thuralin looked as gloomy as ever and gave no reply, but Jokleel’s gentle features creased into a smile. ‘Indeed you are, brother. No god could wish for a better attendant.’

Finavar grinned behind his mask. ‘Quite! And what more suitable character is there for this festival than Bel-Geddon?’

Jokleel nodded, still smiling. ‘He is Loec’s favourite attendant. And everyone knows he’s a herald of spring. And he’s funny.’

‘Exactly,’ said Finavar. ‘Even those humourless sentries would not dare refuse such a guest!’

Thuralin massaged the heavy lines of his face and gave Finavar a despairing look. ‘What exactly do you hope to achieve by telling jokes? The minute you take off that ridiculous mask, you will be removed, or worse. How can you gather support if you can’t even admit who you are?’

Finavar shrugged. ‘I have yet to solve that particular problem, but I’m sure I will find a way. If I can just get near the Queen again, I can make her realise the seriousness of this attack.’ He shook his head. ‘You should have seen the courtiers, Thuralin. They are utterly self-absorbed. They can see nothing beyond the boundaries of that glade and their own pretty robes. They were far too busy swooning over each over to heed my warning.’

‘Of course they were!’ cried Alhena, slapping the branch she was perched on. ‘So why don’t we leave them to their ridiculous pageants and get back to Locrimere while there is still time?’

Finavar shook his head. ‘Until Orion returns, the Queen is our best chance. If I can just get close to her, I’m sure she will listen. She saw how much credence Orion gave my message. Just think: if Ariel requested it, we could have a thousand archers at our disposal. Two thousand! Who knows how many?’ He looked up at Alhena. ‘Trust me. I’m sure I can make her listen. Then we will head straight for Locrimere.

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