Isec was relieved to see Tobius among the group, together with his two closest advisors, Oren Harrin and Hart Moralis. The pair appeared deader in the eyes than usual, clearly exhausted from the long journey.
“My king,” Isec said, pushing his way up to Tobius’s horse. “Thank the Moon Mother you are safe. We feared the worst.”
With Tobius and the royal advisors rode Baron Bennet Decaster, an expression of despair overtaking his face, like a man who had lost everything. At the rear was Sen Dorval, riding strong and menacing as usual, his enormous war hammer hanging from his back, covered in smears of black blood.
Tobius did not slow despite Isec’s greeting, so Isec was forced to maintain a pace with the horse.
“My king, tell me what happened. There was a fire? A battle?” Isec asked, eyes darting around, trying to make sense of all the confusion around him.
Had Ashen attacked? Or had they been preyed upon while returning from the armistice, perhaps? Or something worse?
Tobius simply shook his head and scrunched up his plump, sun-spotted face, as if he too were unsure of the answer. Even the king had some dark soot still staining his hairless dome.
Tobius was concise and monotone as he spoke. “Tellersted was attacked.”
Isec felt his gut twist. “Attacked? By whom?”
“I do not know.”
“The Blacktrees?”
Tobius paused. “I don’t know.”
Isec quickened his pace to keep up as the king’s horse trotted into the city. Tobius exposited what he could on the trip up to Chateau Cardell. He told of fireballs raining from the sky which had ruined any chance of diplomacy with the Blacktrees and had devastated Tellersted. He also described the ensuing attack by the Blacktree forces.
However, Isec could not understand any of the ramblings Tobius spat thereafter… talk of ‘creatures in the fire’ which had torn some of the men apart after the Blacktrees fled.
Isec tried to follow along but felt he should put it down to the shock of battle. There was no way that the gibberish Tobius was spitting could be true.
“Claws in the rock…screams, from another world…”
To Isec, it sounded as though Ashen had launched an unsuspecting siege on Tellersted during the armistice, resulting in the town’s destruction.
Perhaps from catapults or trebuchets? But why? Why attack Tellersted?
Isec was relieved that they had fled before any more lives were cost. Enough blood had already been spilled.
“We have lumins prepared to help those in need. We established some shelters for the refugees as well, and I’ve had the city’s apothecaries bring all their supplies to the gates. I’ll have some slaves get a room ready for the baron,” Isec said.
That may give Tobius some relief.
Tobius barely nodded, still staring away blankly. He did not seem to care much about the humanitarian crisis the city was facing. He was far too preoccupied with the horrors in his head.
“Where is my son?” Tobius grunted. He was growing flustered.
“Still in his quarters, as you requested, my liege,” Isec said, suddenly questioning whether he should bring up what had occurred with Wesley.
He thought for a moment, considering his options as he kept up with the king’s horse, weaving between clumps of refugees and the injured.
“My king, I need to discuss something… rather important with you,” Isec said awkwardly, not quite knowing how to word it.
“It can wait,” Tobius spat.
The king spurred his horse forwards to outpace Isec. Bennet Decaster and Sen Dorval, as well as the king’s guard, sped to keep up as they headed for the Chateau.
Isec stopped in his tracks, watching as the king’s company rode ahead without him. His guards worked tirelessly around him, bringing food, water and blankets to the crowding refugees who were filling the streets. He felt the urge to continue helping where he could.
Isec scratched his head with frustration, wondering how on Eos he was going to break it to Tobius that his son was a monster.
Chapter 43 - The Rains
Chaos shrouded the snowy village of Brittlepeak as the eerie wall of mist descended from the mountain slopes surrounding it. The waters of the babbling river had frozen solid within seconds of touching the billowing clouds of pale fog. Lanterns blew out, hearths and fireplaces went dead.
A distant, shrill shriek whistled through the sky.
The town sank into an otherworldly darkness that no star nor moonlight could relinquish, as if completely swallowed by nothingness.
The residents of Brittlepeak could sense the impending doom as their surroundings sank into the unnatural. Families wrapped in thick furs fled their homes with their small children, desperate to escape. Some townspeople huddled in groups for protection barricaded their doors and windows or gathered in the market. The fear seemed to course between the sleepy residents like fleas amongst stray dogs.
Many of the men wielded shovels, pickaxes and hoes, their eyes fearfully darting around through the mist and the black of night.
These were people that Tomas had once known, lived with, grown up around. He never knew them as family, but they were no strangers either. Yet, with his key gripped tight in the palm of his hand, all he could focus on was getting to his old home as fast as possible.
Shapes took form within the clouded mist, morphing in and out of shadow and moonlight. Unseen amalgamations slipped about the edge of town, horrid screeches sounding in the night.
Tomas trudged through the ankle-high snow having left Lynn behind with Old Bertha at the old woman’s house. He was able to feel a moment of respite while away from Lynn; it was the first chance he’d had to have time away from her in two days.
Yet despite the opportunity, he was not able to sort through the mound of emotional debris the past couple of weeks had been left him with.
