Voice on the Wind (The Outcast Royal Book 2) by Aaron D. Schneider & Michael Anderle

Author:Aaron D. Schneider & Michael Anderle [Schneider, Aaron D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Speculative
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2021-08-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Dragahn’s army was two days' hard ride from Carnyxia when he noticed a break in the swallowing storm that formed the vanguard.

To be more accurate, there was a hole in the storm and he needed to know who was to blame.

They rode upon the enigma on their way to what passed for the Vitzerka capital while following the trail of the Sklavie survivors. The warlord, mounted on the animated remains of Kollung, had been in the depths of another vision of the reality to come when a light cut through the devouring entropic dark.

His first thought was that he watched the next stage in the ultimate death of all that was but when he stared into the light, he realized that he saw shapes within the beam of pale illumination. A slight, stooped figure knelt upon the ground and a tall, gaunt being loomed above with a staff in its hand.

“That’s not right,” he rumbled and his eyes squinted into the light until tears ran down his cheeks. “There is nothing at the end.”

Something else moved within the light and he thought he heard the thrumming pulse of great wings beating the air.

Like the flaps of a tent folding away from a door, the vision rolled back and he realized that it was no vision but rather the waking world. The black winds and razored flurries howled and seethed in every direction except for directly ahead where the two figures stood. As the army of Dragahn Shieldshiver drew closer, he saw a horse on the ground behind the two figures. The once fine animal’s fate was plain to see with one leg twisted at an odd angle and its throat opened by a merciful blade. The keepers of the creature, both men, stood on earth darkened by the poor beast’s blood.

He drew up to the edge of the light surrounding them and stared in confusion as his new bodyguards rode forward to offer their council. The intelligences that inhabited his retainers had one answer to the mystery although they each expressed it with different vivid instructions.

“Flay both to the quick.”

“Feed both to the fire.”

“Trample both to dust.”

“Hack to pieces. Rend!”

The last came from the Welcomed chieftain and the pale light within its eyes flashed like hungry steel.

“But what is it?” he asked and straightened a little in his saddle. His whole body ached as though he’d ridden for days without rest. With his mind free of the bedeviling visions, he realized with a heavy groan that he felt that way because he had indeed ridden for days without rest.

And why couldn’t he remember the last time he’d eaten or drunk anything?

“It is enemy,” all four said at once and their voices droned together like a swarm of locusts. “Kill it.”

The black sword rose in his heavy hand and responded instinctually to the call. In the next moment, Dragahn looked at the two men and his fatigue-addled mind cleared enough to force a second musing into focus.

“But why are they here?”

In a peculiar first since their Welcoming, all four un-men seemed uncertain.

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