The Ivory King (Crowns of Melowynn #2) by V.L. Locey

Author:V.L. Locey [Locey, V.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Perky Rooster Press
Published: 2025-02-06T00:00:00+00:00

THE NEXT MORNING I WOKE TO SUNSHINE. Bright, crisp, and shining on the mottled forest floor. Damp, stiff, and yet oddly excited to see the sun, I sat up, looked around our camp, and found that V’alor was the lone sentry watching over us. Everyone else was still sleeping off the exhaustion of a day in the saddle after nearly being killed.

We’d ridden hard yesterday, putting as much distance as we could betwixt ourselves and any more possible assassins. We’d ridden after dark at the behest of V’alor, weaving amongst trees and prickly bushes. Beiro finally called a halt after the moons were overhead, citing that the horses were being put into too much danger after his surefooted gray gelding stepped wrong and had nearly gone over a washout by a raging stream. There was water everywhere. Each little brook was now a rushing virago as the storm moved over the Witherhorn range, dumping more rain on the steep snowy slopes. Snow melt joined with rain created even more flooding. Everyone from the dwarves in Winterbrecht, their capital city resting on the northern side of the mountains, to the elves in Celear were going to be in dire straits come winter. I could only imagine how much snow melt was pouring into the grand dwarven city at the moment. Even the mightiest of stone doors had cracks…

So much loss of property, crops, and yes, even lives would ride hard on the king’s weary shoulders.

The king. I rubbed at my eyes. The short sleep we’d managed to catch not nearly enough to remove the strain of knowing that it might well be me carrying the weight of this natural disaster. Instead of dwelling on the future, I lay there and watched a heron soaring overhead with long wings and graceful legs. The bird was probably looking for a calm eddy to fish in. I wished him luck. We’d abandoned traveling along the riotous waterway.

Following the river was pointless as the Vilhall was in no hurry to recede. So, we entered the Glotte in the gray-speckled robes of the assassins we’d left lying for the vultures to snack upon. Beiro had suggested we don their robes to better blend in and then ride with all speed to Lake Tolso. There we could find some fisherfolk he knew who would be happy to offer us a night’s lodging and some fish stew in one of their stone huts before we continued onward. If we were amongst people, the assassins might not be so bold. And we could enquire about them. As it stood now, none of us were familiar with the cartel that was after us. We had all agreed on this plan and so today we were bound for the cold blue lake at the base of the Witherhorn. A bed, even in a stone hut, sounded glorious, as did stew of any kind. Pithy peaches had become tiresome quickly. As had this chasm between V’alor and me. I had to try something—anything—to bring him closer to me again.

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