Page 75 of The Shadowed Oracle
“Yes!” Tyla begged. She left out the fact that Karis was gone. It had been decided that weighty bit of information should be left forafterthey asked to use Maradenn’s portal. “I’ve known him for twenty years. He was my mentor. MyDux Regulus. He was—” Tyla abandoned her plea mid-sentence, recoiling her head, as the tip of the guard’s spear came into focus just inches from her face.
“Let me see if I follow,” the guard said through gritted teeth. “You were sent here by Karis Endolinn, the Oracle of Hydor, who also happens to be your Dux Regulus, to speak to the king about this war?”
“Correct.”
“And the reason Karis couldn’tbe herewith you today?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Right. That’s what I thought.” He made a sharp, threatening jerk of his wrist. “Flee. Now. Before you soil any other great names in your attempts to trick me. Go!”
Raidinn dragged his sister backward as the soldier’s threats became more specific. They’d realigned into perfect formation, as they were when first approached, but there was a slight bend to their knees now, readying for battle. Each face was hard and intentional. They would kill if they had to.
“This is how you treat guests in Maradenn!?” Raidinn was speaking from his stomach, projecting his strength. His long brown hair wiggled as he yelled, the muscles in his enormous neck flexing. “Like dogs begging for food?! We have importantinformationfor your king! We must speak to him! Now!”
The guards didn’t move.
“I said open the gate!” Raidinn screamed out again. “NOW!”
As if the last word carried so much power that it could alter their surroundings, the soldiers slightly flinched. Then came the metallic song of chains and levers being pulled. The gate was opening. Even Raidinn looked surprised as the soldiers standing guard stood upright, bringing the hands that had been resting on their sheaths to the tips of their helms.
They were saluting.
“Princess Callinora,” one of them said squeakily. “We weren’t informed you were outside the gatehouse.”
Soundlessly, effortlessly, a woman in a glistening black mourning gown strode past the four world-walkers. Ingrid couldn’t catch even a glimpse of her face. She’d turned too late tosee who the guards were addressing. But the woman’s gait, her flowing white-grey hair, the golden bangles worn about her neck and arm, it was enough to deduce the nobility.
Callinora. Princess of Maradenn.
Ingrid hadn’t heard anything about her, or any of the royal family members, apart from the king. Nestor’s stubbornness and unwillingness to risk his army were well-known, but with that isolationist mentality, a shroud of mystery covered the rest of his family.
The guards parted in perfect harmony, bowing as the princess passed. Her pace was slow, methodical, the black hem of her dress swaying ever so slightly. It was a practiced strut, one cultivated due to the importance a world without technology put on first impressions, and the magnifying glass this society put on those in power. Every movement, every gesture, every word, and every inch of their appearance was closely watched. Scrutinized.
The more Ingrid looked at her, however, the more it seemed like Callinora’s glacial pace was due to a mulling over of sorts. Walking as if pulled back by invisible restraints, thoughts weighing her down. Just as effortlessly as she moved, the Princess stopped at the threshold of the entrance. Then she turned, giving a perfunctory tilt of her head toward the guards.
“I’ll take them to my father,” she said. “Let them through.”
The guard who’d given them so much trouble nearly doubled over. “Are you… are you certain, Princess? They could?—”
“I won’t say it again.”
The guards glanced at one another to make sure they’d heard right.
“Yes, your Majesty.”
Seeing the opening and hardly believing it would stay ajar for long, the four of them hustled to get inside the gatehouse.
Twisted sneers tracked them all the way inside the gate, lingering until the very last inch of visibility was blocked by the bulking metal fortifications.
“Follow me,” the princess said, and led them through the beautiful green courtyard, into the keep, up an enormous spiral staircase, then down lengthy hallways until they were in the throne room, locking eyes with the King of Maradenn, monarch of the unquestioned stronghold of the south, enemy to Makkar the tyrant, and commander of the second largest legion in all of Ealis.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The lackof company in the room gave the vast, ribbed vault ceiling an imposing feel. Only a few lady’s maids, a half-dozen king’s guards, and three older, pallid-faced advisors who’d been passionately conversing with the king prior to their entrance were present.
Above the king and his retinue on the dais, black mourning banners rustled in the breeze blowing in through the open stained glass windows. At each corner of the room were arched doorways festooned with thick golden curtains and guarded by more expressionless soldiers.
Ingrid and her companions stood in the center of it all, awaiting the king’s answer to their pleas. Nestor, like his daughter, seemed methodical in everything he did. He also had the white-grey hair match, but with darker skin and eyes. Eyes, Ingrid noticed, that were also infected by a soft sadness, not matching at all with his volatile words.
“What, friends of Karis Endolinn, did you think you’d accomplish here today?” He barely strained himself enough to meet their gaze, choosing instead to share loaded glances with his daughter Callinora. He didn’t seem pleased with her for bringing these strangers to his throne room.
“You speak of tactics,” Nestor bellowed. “When my son has barely gone cold in the Mother’s embrace. What did you hope to hear from me, exactly?”
