The Exiled King

Chapter 27 - Iside's Protection

"The king..."

An uneasy muttering rippled through the crowd as they took in the state of the survivors.

Dethemina rushed out from the crowd of onlookers and immediately checked Nicon's pulse, confirming he was alive.

"He's alive!" She called, then took his hand and teleported him away.

Only a moment of silence came, before a young elf, her belly swollen with child, shoved through the crowd to glimpse the survivors. A long, drawn out wail came from her mouth and she sank to the ground as sobs shook her frail frame. No words were needed to understand she'd lost someone precious on that day.

"Keir h-hasn't come back," Another sobbed, "He p-promised me he'd c-come back!"

"Master! Excuse me- Let me through! Master!" Farik pushed his way through, shoving others aside in his desperation to see the survivors and muttering hurried apologies.

"Did you hear? Only four people survived..." The elves whispered among themselves, but Farik tuned out their words as a coiling feeling of dread pooled in his stomach.

Master Orien! Oh Mother let him be alright! He thought, as his heart beat erratically and the feeling that he'd already lost someone precious threatened to send him to his knees.

Please let master Orien be one of the ones who survived! Farik thought desperately as he burst through the mass of spectators.

His eyes quickly scanned the survivors for the familiar gray streaked chestnut hair of his mentor, his heart sinking deeper into despair as he failed to find the person he so desperately sought.

He surged forward, grabbing Alana by the shoulders and crying, "Where's my master?! Where's master Orien?!"

Tears streamed down his face, even as he clung to the hope that Orien was elsewhere. Alive.

"He was one of the first..." Alana whispered, "He fought bravely and died bravely..."

Hot, burning anger coursed through Farik and he cried, "Well he should have lived bravely! I'll never forgive the king for this!"

He shot to his feet and ran away, heart feeling like there was a gaping hole within it. That day, he lost a mentor, friend and father-figure.

<--<< >>-->

Jaron stood beside Jason amid the chaos and cleared his throat, then shouted, "Have you all lost your minds?!"

The crowd hushed and he continued, "We're in the middle of a war! My condolences to those who lost someone today, but we cannot stay like this! There is a demon army camped in our kingdom and we will drive them out!!"

Oh Mother, I'm awful at rallying people with motivational talks, Jaron thought, But rallying the people against a common enemy usually works...

He thought grimly back to when the first demon war had begun. The five kingdoms had not gotten along at first—not until it became clear that they would all be destroyed if they did not cooperate. And Anhua paid the price of their hesitation.

Dawn came quickly, and Jaron, who'd not slept a wink in the few hours between, sighed, yawning loudly. He'd been making war preparations the whole evening, taking inventory and organizing the elves into cohorts based on skill and weapon mastery.

As it stood, the elven army had a dozen different small cohorts, each consisting of some twenty-odd seasoned fighters.

"It's not enough," He muttered, "We cannot be sure of victory with these numbers."