Asher watched Vighon and Adan flinch when Avandriell belched a small cloud of fire. “I would agree.”
13
Finding Harbour in the Storm
Leaving Asher and Avandriell, Vighon was happy to discover a strong note of hope in himself. As awe-inspiring as it was to see a baby dragon and to know that the ranger had finally received some kind of gift for all his suffering and toil, the king was simply happy to know that Verda’s future had a new line of dragons in it. Their species had long brought peace and prosperity to the realm and, whatever that looked like, Asher and Avandriell were proof that one day that time would come again in some way.
Some of that hope was dashed when he listened to the report from one of Kassian’s Keepers. He had been waiting for the king further down the hall and was quick to catch him. Though Vighon and Nathaniel had successfully rallied all those who would journey south with them, Kassian had taken over the hunt for supplies where armour and weapons were concerned.
“We checked the barracks twice, your Grace,” the Keeper reported. “The only usable armour and swords have already been taken by those who currently guard the keep but, in truth, that’s all that was left. The rest looks to have been melted down.”
Vighon swore under his breath. “Do we have swords and shields for every man accompanying us?”
“Swords yes, though their condition isn’t great. Shields, no, your Grace. Kassian himself is going from house to house to see if anyone has usable armour.”
“They’re likely to be antiques,” Vighon remarked. “Do we at least have furs enough to travel through the snow?”
“Furs are the one thing this city has in abundance, your Grace,” the Keeper answered with half a smile.
Vighon opened his mouth to reply but he caught Inara’s eye, outside Asher’s chamber. She was talking to her parents, but her attention appeared to be distracted by him.
Gathering his wits, the king managed to say, “Furs and old swords will have to do. The fate of the realm is in the balance and we will fight with tooth and nail if we must. At least you have your magic,” he added, glancing down at the wand holstered on the Keeper’s thigh.
The Keeper nodded his appreciation before being dismissed. Vighon turned back to Inara and discovered she was parting ways with her parents. Before she disappeared down the next passage, the Guardian looked back and locked eyes with the northman. Whether she was telling Vighon to follow her or not, the king felt compelled to go after her.
By the time he reached the next passage, her red cloak was just vanishing through a door that led down to the back of the keep. Vighon couldn’t think of any reason why Inara would be heading towards the back of the keep, so she must be expecting him to follow. If she didn’t, the king had no idea what he was going to say when he caught up with her.
It wasn’t long before he was outside and walking down to the main courtyard. His black furs and thick cloak helped to keep winter’s touch at bay, but there was no protection from the mob of Namdhorians yet to vacate the keep. People of every age tried to reach out and touch him, offering their thanks and loyalty. It was overwhelming, as noted by a few of his guards. They jostled their way through and tried to give the king some space, but it was ultimately Sir Borin’s towering presence that parted the crowd.
Irritated by the enormous and forbidding shadow that refused to give him peace, Vighon commanded the Golem to the ramparts, reminding Sir Borin that he could watch his master from afar.
Free of the walking nightmare, the king took the time to shake several hands, greeting his people, as well as crouching to talk to some of the children, reassuring them all that they had nothing to be concerned about. He encouraged them all to return to their homes and help source supplies where they could. Most, it seemed, didn’t feel it was safe enough to leave the keep yet. There was a degree of terror in the eyes of them all. They feared for their elderly parents and their young children.
Having done all he could with words, Vighon turned away and made for the north gate. It was the only place Inara could have gone, he reasoned. The guards remained stationed at the gate, ensuring the king wasn’t followed by any of the crowd. He wanted to do so much more for them, but he couldn’t give them anything but hope without an actual victory to claim.
Navigating the outer walls of the keep, Vighon walked round the cliff edge until he spotted Inara. She was standing on the most northern outcropping of rock, where Namdhor’s mountainous slope extended another hundred feet beyond the keep. Her red cloak was billowing in the wind as she looked out on The King’s Lake.
The northman approached, his feet crunching through the snow. He did his best to ignore the unnerving feeling that crept into his hands and feet when he took in the severe drop either side of the pointed bluff. When finally he reached her side, there was just enough room to stand shoulder to shoulder.
This wasn’t the first time they had shared this particular ground.
“Do you remember the last time we were here together?” he asked.
Inara maintained her distant gaze. “You kissed me if I recall.”
Vighon chortled. “If you recall? Was it not memorable?”
Inara smiled. “Have you come to kiss me again?” she replied evenly.
The king hesitated, taken aback by the direct question. “I wanted to offer my condolences,” he began. “We haven’t had any time since you arrived. I would have told you about Adilandra myself, but…”
Inara was already shrugging off any apology or condolences. “My grandmother had a warrior’s heart… and a warrior’s death. I expect we will all meet a similar end, if we’re
