Bardian's Redemption: Book Four of the Guardian's Vambrace (The Guardian Vambrace 4)
Page 74
Even in his frailty, Tarnavarian was the most beautiful thing Sandavall Xavien had ever seen.
Ashkorai and Tamlin, outfitted in the scarlet Guardian tabards that matched Xavien's own, stood at attention in the back of the cabin. Their vambraces and Guardian swords shone spectacularly, no longer burdened with the black taint of disconnection. With the reclamation of their Guarded, their trinity and their honor, they were finally whole.
The recovery of Tarnavarian's soul had not been as easy as Xavien had hoped. They had spirited the empty body from the tombs and fled, opting to find a reputable Master Healer before restoring him, to spare him the pain and indignity of the recovery process. It took several days and three healers before they decided he was fit enough for satisfaction. The pesky Keepers that Galvatine set on their trail had kept them on the move, which was not easy to do with a dead-weight body to protect.
The Prophecy chamber keeps throughout the kingdom were already impenetrable, probably due to Galvatine's forward-thinking. High Defensive statuses did not pose a problem for Xavien and his mage cloak as far as entry was concerned, but the guards suddenly lining the insides of the chambers did. Although the ceremony they wished to perform with the nousectional device was not lengthy, it required focus and preferably a limited audience that was not swinging swords at them.
The lumanere cavern in the Jelarian Mountains of Westlewin provided the chamber they required. No guards were posted there, and no eyes were watching. Galvatine had apparently not thought of the chamber, or he had not thought highly enough of its relevance. Ashkorai had provided the blood sacrifice from his palm and Tarnavarian was summoned back without incident.
He had, of course, showered Xavien with all the praises he had longed for. The hefty contribution to the reclamation had not gone unrewarded, and Xavien knelt right there in that chamber for the restoration of Tarnavarian's blessings and vambrace. They then hopped off to the Westlewin temple for consultation with the Mon-Priest, who had complied with their special request and pledged his undying fealty. Tarnavarian had a way with negotiation. The Westlewin Mon-Priest stood beside them in the skiff cabin, anxious to demonstrate his loyalty.
Now that Tarnavarian was restored in both soul and body, there were a few matters of housekeeping to attend. They had shadow-hopped to White Tower, where the dulcet Princess was preparing to celebrate her Second Wedding and Vannisarian was expecting to accept his Ascension. What a surprise was in store for them both!
The streets of White Tower were packed with people as the highsun hour drew near. Their skiff had come to a complete halt, thanks to the barricade of bodies. The lengthy processional would already be closing in on the ceremonial platform.
“We're going to be late, Majesty,” Tamlin commented. “The street is too crowded with revelers and the parade route is still closed.”
Tarnavarian appraised the obstruction with scorn. “When there are flies upon the meal, you swat them,” he suggested casually, his once smooth baritone still parched and broken from the year of disuse.
Ashkorai acknowledged with a bang of his fist to the panel of his tabard. He motioned for Tamlin, who followed him down the steps.
“Make way for His Grand Majesty, King Tarnavarian Ellesainia!”
Xavien stood behind his beloved, newly Ascended King and watched as his brothers cleared a path before the Kingskiff. A few of the citizens that were too drunk or too slow for their liking were mowed down deftly by swinging Guardian swords that seemed thirsty to shine in the Havenlen sun.
Tarnavarian raised his chin, satisfied with his entourage's compliance. “Our path is clear. Driver, take us on to the square. I am bound for my little brother's wedding. I'll have your head if I miss it.”
The hidden cost of the desperate bargain
is often binding regret.
WARRIOR'S LAMENT
Book Five of The Guardian Vambrace
guardianvambrace.com
About the Author
H. Jane Harrington dabbles in nonconformity and whimsy. She is an otaku, a scifi, fantasy and western aficionado, a student of Japanese culture and language, a budding charcoal portrait artist, and a collector of general knowledge and outhouses. She lives in Birmingham, Alabama, with her husband, two children, mother-in-law, and two loyal Guardian mutts. She is a champion of nerds and geeks everywhere.
She can be contacted at:
GuardianVambrace@gmail.com
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For more Guardian goodies, check out my website:
guardianvambrace.com