Page 39 of Whispers of the Elderoak

Casimir nodded to Jorrar. “Send word to the king.”

Jorrar whistled as he turned to the woods. A moment later a gray and black marbled owl appeared, swooping down to land on his arm. He turned to the bird. “Send a message to Thorne. Inform him what’s happened and that we will wait for his instructions.” Seconds later, the owl hooted and flew off toward the towering mountains in the distance.

The rest of their companions had disappeared as well, on their own missions to gather intelligence; one of their many uses.

They had been in the Greywood Forest for a couple of months now, using this small camp as their base. Though Deidamia had been gone for decades, parts of her army remained. They didn’t try to conquer completely without her, but caused plenty of trouble. Casimir and his three best warriors had been sent by their king to take care of rogue soldiers who were wreaking havoc on some of the smaller villages at the outskirts of their kingdom.

“How far are we from Oakshire?” asked Casimir.

“About two days’ walk,” answered Raine. “Why? Are you craving an ale, general? Maybe a romp in the sheets with a pretty bar maiden? You’d better bathe first. You stink.”

Casimir raised his eyebrows at his closest friend. “There will be norompingthis time. We need better rest, some real food and a place to wait for Thorne’s instructions. Besides, we need to replenish our supplies.”

“Real food? You dislike my cooking?” Jorrar scoffed at Casimir as he attached their supplies to their horse, a gray mare with a white patch on her chest named Snowheart.

“Nobody likes your cooking, old man,” Quinn jabbed as she strapped on her many daggers.

Jorrar furrowed his brow.

Raine poured water over the smoldering embers of their fire. “It reminds me of the smell of Cas’ feet when he takes his boots off after we’ve been traveling for weeks.”

“It’s notthatbad,” Jorrar grumbled at Casimir who was adjusting the hood of his forest green cloak.

Casimir gave Jorrar a blank look. “It’s tolerable.”

Jorrar huffed and finished packing their gear.

“Time to go,” he announced. “We must be swift.”

Casimir led his group through the woods, sun high in the sky as it beat down on them. His hand absently traced the scar that started just above his jaw line and stretched down his neck, ending at his collarbone. Long lost memories usually kept at bay now churned near the surface as he worried about what the daemon queen and her consort had in store for Eorhan. For his kingdom.

For his home.

13

Ava fell through space and time.

Down and down.

Plummeting but floating at the same time.

She wasn’t in pain. Not like when she touched the archway.

But her skin tingled as something shifted. As she flew into everything and nothing.

There was only infinite darkness. An absence of light, as if it had been devoured.

Her dream had come true, no longer a premonition. No longer an intangible thing.

The ruins, the voice, the figure chasing her through the woods. As if she would never have been able to escape her fate. The voice sounded again, calling out her name in a panic. As if he was searching for her and warning her.

It was a forceful voice; radiating power and authority as it yelled for her to stop.

But whoever it was, she had let him down.

Failed.

Hands still bound, she barreled into the earth, breath knocked out of her as she hit the ground. An identical archwaystood before her with the same swirling blackness lined in blue.

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