The Exiled King

Chapter 17 - The Winter Heir

Nicon's heart jolted for a moment before he relaxed.

In all the chaos, I guess I must have forgotten to tell them, He thought ruefully.

Still, the guard's words were instilling an uneasy unrest in the civilian crowds below and Nicon glared at the guard, hissing, "Shut up! Lower your voice!"

The guard shut his mouth with an audible clop and instead conveyed his feelings through his wide and fearful eyes.

Out loud he turned to address the townspeople and said, "There is no cause for concern! Please continue to enjoy the festival."

He gestured for Dethemina to follow him and excused himself from the festival, giving a small nod to the other queens before leaving.

Away from the square, the streets were dim and silent. Not a soul wandered the streets on festival day—all enjoyed the festival for all it was worth. It was here, under the flickering light of a street lamp, that Nicon told Dethemina the news.

"The travellers have awoken," He said, "I'll bring you to see them."

Dethemina nodded, her expression unreadable, and the two made their way to the outer wall of the city, where the barracks lay. It was within the barracks that the bodies had been laid. They entered the barracks, Dethemina pausing only for a moment to steady her racing heart.

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Haverik felt... numb. Which was not a feeling he thought death would feel like. His ears felt muffled and buzzed incessantly. There was a dull metallic tang in his mouth and his eyes felt heavy and impossible to open. As he lay, trying to get his senses back, he briefly noticed the feeling of soft sheets beneath him.

What felt like an eternity later, he was finally able to move his fingers and his eyelids fluttered.

What greeted his eyes when they opened was a wooden beam ceiling. He slowly sat up and surveyed his surroundings as a scream pierced the silence. He saw an elf, dressed in a plain leather tunic, let out a shrill shriek and wildly wave a sword at Haverik.

Haverik tried to calm the elf, but all his throat could produce was a parched cough that only served to scare the elf more. The elf ran outside, screaming bloody murder and Haverik sighed, his head throbbing.

What's gotten into that elf? He wondered, Do I have something on my face?

Movement by the door caused his eyes to snap up and eye the newcomers.

The first was a male, with short-cropped black hair that glistened a strange blue-ish sheen in the torchlight, who was dressed in splendid black robes with gold trimmings. A circlet graced his forehead, embedded with a gem of the deepest onyx. Beside him stood a female with long white hair and sad golden eyes.

The woman looks familiar, He thought, then realised, She looks just like Eryna!

They approached him and the male spoke.

"Ryis erv aum telo, Taryn?"

How do you feel, Taryn?

Haverik had often studied the ancient language at home and immediately understood the words the elf spoke, but could not articulate a reply.

In the end he muttered one word, "Aesin."

Water.

The female nodded and disappeared in a flash of cold blue light before returning a moment later with a beaker of water, which she gently handed to him.