Fury of Molith (Fengysha Series Book 2)

by Jordan Cramm

  “If we all do this, the tent will be without healers. What about the soldiers outside?” one of the healers asked.

  “Get volunteers if you can. Be quick about it,” Mage Carra snapped, “because we are very short on time.”

  Sixteen people volunteered to share the spell price, meaning that they would each be asleep for one chime. In order to accommodate the result, all but two were placed in beds within the tent. The last two were laid upon the floor gently. Then Mage Carra told them that when she performed the spell, the balance debt would kick in immediately. And since it was consensual for them to share in it by equal parts, they would remain asleep each for a chime’s worth of time. They each said their absence from camp would hardly be noticed. Then, Mage Carra began the healing, and held her hand over the back of Wolflen’s head. The wound closed soon after, and then all of the volunteer soldiers fell into a comatose-like slumber. Quickly after, Wolflen stood and muttered “Thank you men” to those laying asleep now.

  “Now hold on,” Mage Carra insisted, “your fiancé is on her way to this tent. You can hardly keep up the charade that nothing happened if you and your armor are covered in blood.”

  One of the tent healers fetched hot water and some towels quickly, and they set to the task of getting Wolflen cleaned up. They soon had him dried as well, although his hair was still slightly messy. And then he stood, and he looked over one of the soldiers that volunteered to share the balance debt for his own healing. He reached into his belt pouch then, leaving each volunteer a gold coin on their chest.

  “They will be pleased at that,” Mage Carra said softly.

  “Pleased at what?” Katrina said as she entered the tent with Jakarta behind her. He had the look of someone who hoped Wolflen had a good story; of someone who had said as little as possible to her himself. Wolflen simply grinned.

  “I gave them each a coin for their help.”

  “Help with what?” Katrina asked, “What happened? All I was told is that you were hurt.”

  “I’m fine. A minor thing really. The men here volunteered to help with the healing and I wanted to repay them is all.”

  Katrina cocked her head sideways and gave a disapproving glance before demanding details.

  “I took a pretty good shot to the head,” Wolflen said finally, “after I was tackled from the back of Sespa to the ground by a Werewolf. Suckers are ferocious.”

  “Wolflen!” Katrina exclaimed, “You ran off to battle again? And again with no helmet?!”

  “We didn’t know that would be the outcome your majesty,” Jakarta interjected, “he actually had ridden to find me for a report on our progress. But we heard a very loud beast in the distance and thought we would at least check it out for safety reasons. When we got there, we saw it was an Androkar, and it was being attacked by around 30 Werewolves. We watched for a while then we decided it best to make sure none of them survived. None did. We now believe they landed at Berayva to the North, which would explain their proximity to where we were, and where we are. Had we known we were riding for battle, he would have taken his helmet this time. Isn’t that right Lord Darkmoon?”

  “Of course. Look honey…” Wolflen replied as he stepped toward her and offered a hand for her to take, “it was nasty out there. I got hurt yes, but Mage Carra here helped me out. These men here shared the burden of the healing cost. I am sorry if I worried you but I promise you, I am okay now, and I am in good shape thanks to everyone here.”

  Katrina was shaking her head but took his hand anyway. Then slowly she hugged him before telling them that Sespa still needed aid. Jakarta told him not to worry however, because Sespa’s cuts were actually extremely minor thanks to her thick fur locks. Wolflen just nodded his acceptance. Then he reassured Katrina that he was okay once more as he could tell by the look on her face she was still worried.

  After that, Katrina insisted that they return to their own tent and await the arrival of King Janureen rather than risk anything else happening. Besides that, she told him, he needed to brush his hair again. He couldn’t argue with her logic and agreed it was the best course of action. As they neared the tent exit way, Jakarta smiled and commented.

  “Congratulations again on the marriage you two,” he said with a wide grin, “and Wolflen, perhaps you should start taking your helmet with you wherever you go from now on.”

  Wolflen gave a sarcastic glance and nodded. Katrina just shook her head and then together they left the tent. Mage Carra stayed, giving Jakarta a glance that said “That was close,” and Jakarta nodded his understanding and quiet agreement before stepping outside himself. Outside, he saw Wolflen checking Sespa over thoroughly before pulling Katrina up as he normally did. He admitted to himself Sespa was not quite as bad off as he thought, and when he used his telepathic connection to ask about it, Sespa simply said she was fine and told Wolflen not to worry.

  “Oh and Lord Darkmoon,” Jakarta said as he mounted his own horse once more, “it’s perfectly acceptable to let other soldiers be on the front lines from time to time and lead the charge…just saying…”

  Wolflen smiled and nodded as he pulled Katrina up to her spot behind him. Then they each turned and rode back toward the camp interior. It wasn’t long before Wolflen and Katrina dismounted once more and entered their tent, saying their hello to the Black Cloak Guard as they passed. Then inside the tent, Katrina asked if Wolflen was really okay, commenting that she wondered if he was looking for a fight after the events of the previous days, specifically the passing of his mother. He told her that perhaps he had in fact been too hasty in pressing the attack against the Werewolves and the Androkar, but that it had nothing to do with other emotions. He assured her he did it simply because he perceived a threat to camp and wanted to deal with it. Of course he also admitted that his attack had been too hasty in all likelihood due to his inexperience in dealing with such creatures.

  “Maybe,” Katrina said as she swaggered over to his side at one of the chairs, “you should not get so hasty to save the world that you get killed in the process. If you don’t know an enemy, maybe let them make the first move. Or at least wait until you have a detachment of soldiers at your back before pressing the assault.”

  “I know,” Wolflen remarked as he grabbed her and pulled her into his lap, “it was foolish. I wasn’t thinking beyond the moment. Nevertheless, I am okay now. And here you are with me. Sorry I didn’t get around to getting you a mirror, but I haven’t forgotten.”

  Katrina just shook her head before giving him a quick kiss. Then they both began to hear the bells of the city behind them. They weren’t alarm bells, but they were alerting the city to new visitors.

  “Daddy!” Katrina exclaimed as she stood, “Go brush your hair quickly. I will get some water boiling for the tea.”

  “How long,” Wolflen began as he too stood, “do you think it will take them to get here?”

  “Not long. We’ve got a few Paladins on guard at the port still, and they will inform my father and company of our whereabouts. His will likely be the second ship to dock..the first in order to give the ‘all clear’ signal.”

  Wolflen nodded and turned toward the bathroom, finding a brush and fixing his hair promptly. Then, he went to the pantry and came back into the main area with some Izenian Black tea leaves for the teapot that Katrina had just set over the fire brazier on a steel hanging rod. Then Wolflen stepped outside quickly and summoned two of his Black Cloak Guards to his side. Next, he requested of them that they rush to the mess tent and bring back some meat, cheese, fruits and vegetables. Wolflen said if ribs were available, he wanted that, and some salads if possible. The Black Cloak guards turned after a quick salute with their hand over their chest, and then they darted off into the camp.

  Wolflen looked up at the sky which was still overcast. He figured it might rain soon. He turned when he heard Katrina behind him.

  “Don’t worry,” she told him as she sensed his nervousness, “the Paladins have already prepared him a tent here that he
should find suitable. We have already prepared what we can. Just take a deep breath.”

  He nodded and did take a deep breath, turning quickly back toward their tent, and she followed after. In the tent, he shook his hands freely a moment as if he were loosening up for something. Katrina figured if it helped him relax, she didn’t mind. Still, she knew he was nervous as he started to pace slightly with his hand upon his chin. So, she got his attention quickly.

  “Husband…” she said firmly, “everything will be fine.”

  He stopped pacing and smiled at her, taking another deep breath before turning and sitting behind the main table in the room. She rounded it as well, sitting atop the table and looking at him. She offered her hand and he held it, smiling, and beginning to relax as he did. On the table, maps were still laid out, and small carved pieces of wood acted as markers for various things upon the map. He wondered if he should remove all of it, but figured he had no need to. In fact as he thought about it, he guessed that perhaps the King could provide more information and help mark up the map even more when he arrived.

  But do not forget the tea. Tea service first after the formal invitation to the tent. Sit, drink, make small talk. Let Katrina lead that part. Then after, maybe the ice will be broken, and you can move the conversation forward. Then, dinner and who knows…

  The waiting seemed to be an eternity. Each moment passed as though it were a full chime itself. Eventually though, they heard the official introductions by way of his guards outside, and at last, King Janureen entered the tent. Wolflen stood at once, noticing the King’s seemingly strong physique, and long, straightened, brown hair. He was dressed in armor much like Wolflen’s, though its color was golden. At each hip, the King had a Flameblade sheathed. As for his own weapons, Wolflen had chosen to still have them showing, and they were upon his back as he stood.

  Wolflen bowed his head at once in reverence while Katrina charged around the table to hug and welcome her father.

  “Daddy!...” she chirped, “You made it. Safe journey?”

  “Nothing our ships couldn’t handle daughter. Tell me, is that Izenian Black tea I smell?”

  Now, Wolflen spoke up.

  “Your majesty it is indeed. We brewed it for this occasion, and if you will allow it, I have a gift of two full barrels for you, filled with the tea leaves from our lands.”

  The King looked beyond his daughter a moment, measuring the appearance of Wolflen himself. He offered half a nod in response to Wolflen, then the King stepped forward slowly, trailing a white cloak that cinched by way of a chain over the top of his shoulder armor.

  “Elven armor suits you well,” King Janureen began, “though I understand this is the first set we have made for one of your race.”

  “Indeed your majesty. As you have likely heard, I am Wolflen Darkmoon. Please, have a seat at my table and allow me to pour you some tea.”

  “Thank you Lord Darkmoon. You honor me with this tea service.”

  “It is I who am honored by your presence your majesty,” Wolflen said as he bowed his head slightly when he handed King Janureen a goblet of tea.

  “Ah….” The King stated after his first sip, “I confess a love for this tea. That you knew about it speaks well for your Lord Darkmoon.”

  “Thank you,” Wolflen said as he rounded the table and sat back down.

  Katrina sat as well, almost exactly when Wolflen did; a thing the King took quiet note of, just as he did the ring he now saw on his daughter’s finger. Still, Elven pleasantry and custom dictated that big topic issues were not usually discussed until after the tea had been shared. Instead, it was customary to create small talk, getting some irrelevant pleasantries out of the way. For the Elves it was a way to establish a sense of calm in company. It also served as a reminder that their race had natural immortality, and so in most cases, there was no need to rush things.

  “Tell me Lord Darkmoon,” King Janureen started in, “is it true that you ventured from your home city of Akartha all the way to Elven lands because of your discovery that you are a War Mage?”

  Wolflen nodded. “What you have heard is true,” he said, “and I have to say that Elven lands are quite beautiful. The way your people have managed to make everything work so perfectly in concert with nature itself is…awe inspiring really.”

  Wolflen shuffled in his chair as he took a drink of his own tea. He hoped he was doing an acceptable job of honoring the Elven custom, though he was nervous and had his doubts.

  “Daddy, Wolflen here came to my rescue in the city of Haven. I may have stepped into an area there I shouldn’t have been by accident, and he came to my rescue.”

  Wolflen blinked, waiting to hear the response the King would give.

  “The way I heard the tale,” King Janureen replied, “was that once more you slipped away from the protection of an escort. I thought we were beyond that little one.”

  Little one?... Wolflen wondered if that was a pet name the King had for his daughter, or something he just came up with on the spot because it seemed fitting.

  “Well father,” Katrina replied, “I think we are beyond it now yes. Lord Darkmoon here has actually protected and saved me more than once since then. So far I haven’t ditched his help.”

  King Janureen nodded and took another sip of tea before responding.

  “Word has reached me of the relationship the both of you share. Lord Darkmoon I have to say that I am grateful anytime anyone protects my daughter. She is a treasure to me.”

  As King Janureen trailed off, he chugged the remainder of his tea. Noting that it was likely time for more serious talk, Wolflen and Katrina did the same.

  “Now let me be frank,” King Janureen began again, “I have heard whispers that you both are a couple. Judging by the ring on your hand little one, I would say those rumors are confirmed. Am I wrong?”

  “No your majesty,” Wolflen replied, trying to meet the issue head on, “I love your daughter. Only a few days back, I mustered the courage to ask her for her hand in marriage. I had originally thought to ask for your blessing first, but your arrival was still impending, and I felt like the time was right. I apologize if my actions have given offense or insult—such was not my intent. But you should know that I would live and die for your daughter your majesty. She is a treasure to me as well.”

  King Janureen crossed his arms a moment before speaking again. He drew a deep breath and then gave his reply.

  “Tell me then Lord Darkmoon, by which cultural custom did you propose to my daughter?”

  “Your majesty in my heart I am already hers, and upon her acceptance of the proposal I consider her mine as well. I asked as an Izenian man, yet unfamiliar with the customs regarding Elven wedding ceremonies. Personally, I would very much like to adhere to your customs rather than mine here and forego a long wait to call her my wife. In my heart she is already that to me, and it would seem like betrayal to say otherwise now.”

  “I see,” the King answered, “I know you are a War Mage, and I know your father Admiral Darkmoon personally. We have had more than one occasion to meet. But respectfully, I know nothing of you personally. That leaves me with two possible choices; either you and I spend as much time together as you have with my daughter and in so doing I make my own judgments about you that certainly you would wish to be favorable, or I choose to default to the judgment of my daughter and accept you as she does because I love my daughter and trust she has made a wise decision.”

  King Janureen pursed his chin and was in deep thought a moment before continuing.

  “Lord Darkmoon I love my daughter very much. I trust her judgment. In coming days it would be nice to get to know you better myself, so that I may form my own opinions about you. But I suppose for now it may comfort you to know that I recognize your marriage to my daughter. Your own father will likely want a ceremony of some kind, even though it would merely be a formality now. Tell me, have you given thought as to where you intend to call home?”

  “We have both disc
ussed this your majesty. I am now Steward of Akartha, and finding a place of my own there upon return should be no problem at all. This tent would be the only other lodging I can claim for myself right now however. I know the Princess here hopes you will still recognize her as such, and let her keep her territories as well.”

  King Janureen leaned back in the chair he sat in. He paused a moment before answering. He was in a tough spot, caught between emotion, feelings, precedent and law of his people. As Wolflen became her husband, she was bound to him, and as such they would reside together. Yet he had no permanent home, and he was also Izenian, which meant there really was no precedent. Also, because he was Izenian, it would be unusual to name him as an Elven Prince, even if he were named a Prince only in title.

  “I admit Lord Darkmoon, I am not sure exactly how to settle this decision,” King Janureen said before explaining why.

  “Daddy we know for sure he is a War Mage. War Mages have always had a place in Elven lands. Perhaps joint territories then? After all, I am now wife to the Steward of Akartha.”

  King Janureen pursed his chin.

  “You want to keep your territories little one, I understand. But this man—your husband, is Izenian. By rights he cannot be Elven royalty, and as you belong to him now it should follow that your territories be given to your brother. However…”

  Wolflen raised an eyebrow, and Katrina leaned in slightly. Both were anxious to hear the next piece of what the King had to say.

  “Perhaps the people would be at peace were you to retain possession of your Elven lands, knowing you were in union with the War Mage. But for me to consider this, I would like to pose a riddle to your husband here. If he gets it right, you keep your territories. If not, then I give them to your brother. I will give him three attempts to answer this riddle out of fairness. Do you both accept this offer?”