Warmonger: An Epic Fantasy Adventure (Essencers of Aelathia Book 3) by Joshua Smith

Author:Joshua Smith [Smith, Joshua]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2019-12-09T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Ian Lacrause paced back and forth through the anteroom of Glory Keep’s great hall, muttering to himself. Every so often, he changed his tone, playing with the inflection of his words. The creak of wood flooring followed his steps. Once upon a time the room, with its furnishings, murals, and glass-enclosed oil lamps, had been welcoming. Today, it was intimidating. Desperately so.

He should have chosen a better day than Harvest Eve for the proposal. Wouldn’t the council rather be out celebrating—or sleeping in? At least Grand Master Cardst had seemed supportive last night. He’d peppered Ian with questions and with counter-arguments, then insisted they vote this morning.

“If you don’t stop pacing, I might forget a few critical statistics,” a voice said sardonically.

Ian paused, ran a hand through his long hair, and glared over at his childhood friend—and current leatherball opponent. “Would that help you make a mistake in tonight’s game?”

Davide Barclay lounged in one of the wooden benches covered in feather-stuffed pillows. That charismatic grin of his underneath those high cheekbones was a winning charm with the ladies, but sometimes it made Ian just want to tackle the guy to his senses. Being the son of a war hero, he had it easy—but perhaps the best support for their proposal came from their notoriety of being the best athletes in town.

‘Not on your life,’ Davide signed, then added, ‘If there even will be a game.’

‘There will be a game,’ Ian signed back. ‘There has to be.’

Despite his humor, Davide clutched the leather-bound folder tightly in his lap.

“This is going to work,” Ian assured him, now with both speaking and signing. “They’ll listen. It’s a reasonable time table.”

Davide spread his hands. “Already convinced. Besides, economically speaking, we might revitalize the economy. Happy Harvest.” He patted the folder. ‘Ian, I know what I saw. Why can’t you believe what they said is true?’

Ian grunted, glancing out of the window, watching foot traffic pass beneath the raised portion of the Keep and through the curtain wall. It was a symbolic building, embodying the phrase, ‘All roads lead to Gloriweedum.’

Ian chose his next words carefully. “You listened to Stamford. We nearly lost you to that same magic a few years ago.”

‘No,’ Davide said signed with great emotion. ‘You almost lost me to O’Crast and his essencers. That hawk—both the person in the hood and the bird—saved my life. It led me home.’

‘Then you lived through its eyes, Davide, for months. If your fher knew Stamford convinced you to …’

‘But he was right,’ Davide said. ‘I needed to see through the raven’s eyes, Ian. I saw the army marching here. I saw the people on the road. Hundreds of them. And I did speak to two people. It’s like they—or she—was drawn to the raven. If my fher knew, he’d be grateful. He’s a fighter. We’re not. We’re … diplomats.’

Ian shook his head. He was a fighter. That was what leatherball athletes did—fight in the air. Just not like soldiers. It was a tool they could use to convince the counsel.

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