Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

F ionna started reading the moment she shut the door to her room and flopped on the bed. Curiosity demanded she find out why this journal had been hidden, however, it proved slow going. It had been years since she'd learned the language and the sometimes almost ineligible script and the use of symbols she either didn't recall or had never seen before impeded her progress. Still, she managed to confirm the identity of the writer in the first few pages.

Airiok the Destroyer, the man whom the entity hated. She couldn't figure out why. The journal acted as a diary, that of a boy who chose fighting rather than following his father's footsteps working with horses. The first section dealt with him moving into the barracks, and the other fighters mocking his less than impressive name. He spoke of the pain in his muscles as he learned how to wield a sword and spear. His joy at the maid who smiled at him when she refilled his grog. Fionna almost put it aside until she came to a passage that finally showed him leaving Wexkord.

We rode the whole day, and it is not just the horses who are tired. We've not been told why we've been sent to the mountains to patrol, but I have to wonder if it has to do with the refugees that poured into the city a few days ago. No one seems to know why they've fled their hamlet. The warlord has them sequestered.

The next few pages had him whining about field life. And to think this man became a hero.

We've seen nothing in days. Not even a nice plump rabbit to replace the rations I'm tired of.

The tone and writing changed. The script was shakier than the previous sections.

I know not what we fought today but it was fierce. It came at us suddenly, and Keol swore the beast was invisible before it pounced. I believe him. It shifted colors as we fought, taking on the hues of the things around it. Its claws were as long as my hand, its fangs fearsome. We lost Jir and Limas to it. I dealt the killing blow. Tonight, we eat meat.

The journal skipped a few days, or so it seemed, for when it began again it seemed as if some time passed.

The warlord is displeased by how many we've lost. For every monster we eliminate, we lose two to three men. These are not the bears and wild cats we are used to hunting. These things like killing. They care not that we outnumber them, nor can we seem to find where they're coming from. The warlord is angry at our failure. He executed our lieutenant for daring to say we need aid. I have a new lieutenant now and he is leading our battalion back to the mountains. A chance to increase my count. I've taken out seven of them already.

Again, time slipped by for the next entry stated:

We've found where the beasts are coming from. Beyond Risead Pass from the mist land. None who enter have ever returned, and having fought the beasts that live there, I now understand why. What has made them leave their territory? And how can we stop it?

Knock. Knock.

The interruption brought a frown as she'd finally hit an interesting part.

"Fionna, are you in there?" Kormac asked loud enough to be heard through the door.

If she didn't answer, would he beat it down? Probably.

She left the book on the table and opened the door to find Kormac looking stiffer than usual in an all-black ensemble. "Warlord, how can I assist you?"

"Dinner is served," he announced.

"Oh. I didn't realize it had gotten to be that late. I was reading Airiok's journal."

"You have confirmed it was his?"

She nodded. "That or someone of his name. Early on he lamented about the fact his father didn't name him something more worthy."

His brows rose. "Airiok is the most noble of names. So noble few have ever dared use it."

"During his epoch, though, Airiok was not yet known as the destroyer but rather the horse mucker's son."

The revelation rounded his mouth. "No. He was a warrior."

Her lips curved. "Later, yes, but your mighty destroyer started out as the son of a shit shoveler."

"You might not want to mention that to anyone else. He is a hero to my people, and they might not take kindly to an outsider mocking him."

"Hardly mocking but rather impressed, considering his reputation now. From stableboy to warlord."

"Not just warlord, the warlord. He was the one to unite the territories under one rule."

"Given how your people don't like change, I'm surprised they allowed it."

His lips twitched. "He wasn't called destroyer for nothing. He ruled with a very firm fist, according to history."

"I'll want to see those stories for comparison to what his journal claims."

"Later, first we must endure this dinner." He offered an arm, and she hesitated a second before placing her hand on the thick brawn of it.

It led to a fluttery feeling in her stomach. Was she getting ill? She certainly felt a tad lightheaded.

They headed downstairs, drawing stares and whispers. She wore a wider smile than usual as she murmured, "You know they think we've just come from fornicating."

"Most likely."

"Don't you care?"

"Care they have me seducing a beautiful woman?" He chuckled. "You don't know men at all, do you?"

She almost blushed because she did and didn't. She knew them peripherally, had dealt with them when she left the keep, but when it came to affairs of the bedroom, or sex in general, she remained an innocent. Innocent in the sense she'd never been with a man, but she did know the mechanics of it. Sounded unpleasant and sticky, and no number of women saying it could be enjoyable would change her mind. Let them indulge. She had no interest.

As they entered the dining hall, silence fell, and in that hush the warlord's mother loudly whispered, "Are you going to announce him?"

Gurlok stood and held up a tankard. "Respect to our warlord, and greetings to the envoy of Acca. We honor you with this feast."

A feast that appeared to have a lot of roasted animals. Platters of them strewn on the table: bird, pig, a haunch of something she didn't know, fish. There were other dishes, too: bowls that appeared to have some kind of grain tossed with vegetables, breads, cheese, and colorful legumes.

As they neared the head table, she spotted where Kormac would be sitting, the empty ornate chair between two lovely women. As for Fionna? It appeared she'd gotten relegated to the spot beside his mother.

Kormac growled. "She insults you."

"How do you figure? I'm at the head table with an end spot, making it easier to escape."

"Envoys and special guests are usually seated close to me. I'll have you moved."

"And disappoint those eager brides-to-be?" She couldn't help but notice them, their hair elaborately pinned and curled, their gowns just as fancy, unlike the drab clothing she'd seen thus far. Perhaps she should have changed.

"I'm not interested," he grumbled.

"Be nice. I'm sure they didn't have a choice."

"I should seat my mother with them since she's so keen on their presence," was his sour rebuttal.

"That would be even more cruel than you not marrying them."

He snorted. "None of them truly want to marry me. They simply want the recognition of being the warlord's wife."

"Sounds like you'd prefer a woman who's appalled by that position."

"I don't think she exists."

"Mayhap you'll have to look outside of Srayth."

With that parting shot, Fionna took her place beside Silia who offered her a fake smile. "I was beginning to think you were going to skip dinner."

"Thinking or hoping?" Fionna quipped.

"It would have been an insult if you'd missed it, seeing as how we've hosted it in your honor."

"I would never disrespect the warlord like that. It just so happens I was busy." Then because she felt like being a brat, added, "A good thing Kormac reminded me of the time. If it weren't for him, we'd still be in my room."

The innuendo pinched Silia's lips. "Perhaps it is customary in the marshes to entertain men in the bedchamber, but here there is a thing we practice called modesty."

"Glad I don't live here then. Where I come from, women have rights and freedoms."

"The freedom to be hoydens," the woman muttered under her breath before brightly asking, "When are you leaving?" Silia didn't hide her eagerness to see her gone.

"I'll depart when Kormac no longer needs me. After all, I am here at his request."

"Surely, you miss home."

Fionna waved a hunk of bread she'd torn off from the larger piece set in front of her. "One castle is much like another."

The questions stopped for a moment as a servant carved some meat to place on their plates. Once the lad moved on, Silia started in again, this time on a different tangent. "It won't be long before my son chooses a bride."

"I'm surprised you didn't invite her to dinner."

Silia frowned. "As you can see, his choice is difficult. Both Cleona and Fiffany are quite lovely."

"I do believe he's looking for more than a pretty face."

"As if you know his desires," Silia huffed.

"I know that he appears bored out of his mind." She couldn't help but notice the way he steadfastly ate his meal, ignoring the ladies flanking him. "Have you ever thought he might be capable of choosing his own wife?"

"Given how busy his role keeps him, it's my pleasure to help him find his perfect match." Silia had a ready reply.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate your effort." Tongue in cheek, and it led to Silia once more scowling. Fionna had to admit to being amused by the verbal sparring.

The warlord's mother speared a hunk of meat before stating, "I heard you claim to be a half-blood."

"I am." She grimaced.

That seems unlikely given few ever leave Srayth."

"Probably because it's so difficult to get anywhere else." She'd flown in, which made the journey rather simple, but others had to do a long, arduous journey across the desert, and then cross the mountains separating Ulkruuba and Srayth in one of three spots.

"Who were your parents?"

Fionna shrugged. "I don't know. They died when I was young. Because of my gift, I was sent to Mystic Keep to learn magic."

"Gift?" Silia sniffed in disdain.

"You don't believe in magic?"

"Tricks. That's what it is," Silia declared, rousing Fionna's irritation.

"If you say so." While not usually one for petty tricks, in this case, it was warranted. Fionna exerted a bit of power on Silia's glass of wine, turning it to solid ice. When the woman tipped the goblet, it slid out in a huge chunk that hit her mouth, then landed on her plate with a clunk.

She ogled it before hissing, "You did this."

"Me? As if I, a mere mortal woman, could turn wine to ice. Surely someone plays a trick." Fionna managed to not laugh as Silia stewed beside her. In better news, she remained quiet for the rest of the meal.

A meal that took forever, but at least Fionna didn't have to deal with two simpering women. Poor Kormac, he said not a word while his dinner companions nattered on either side. Apparently, they'd not given up on snaring a warlord as a husband.

When dessert arrived, Fionna finally saw a chance to escape and slid from her seat. She'd barely gone two paces when Kormac abruptly stood. Everyone went quiet and looked towards him. He did cut an impressive figure.

"I have business to attend, but do continue the feast." And then that idiot, despite knowing how it would look, strode right for her, making it clear who he had business with.

His mother glared daggers. The women he'd dined with shot arrows with their eyes. Even the rest of the assembled guests held disapproving gazes.

If only they knew Fionna had no interest in him as a husband. Still, there was something about their clear rejection that riled.

They think I'm not good enough. It led to her offering Kormac a simpering smile and putting her hand back on his arm. "Lead the way, mighty warlord."

Only once they exited did he chuckle. "That was strangely satisfying."

"I am beginning to see why you wanted us to fake an engagement. Do your people act like that every time you pay a woman they disapprove of any kind of attention?"

"Yes, which is why I usually avoid showing any kind of personal attention."

"You weren't avoiding it just now," Fionna reminded.

"Because if they think we're sneaking around to fuck, they won't question why you're actually here."

"Pretty sure they're aware, given I've been to visit Lomar twice now."

"My guards know better than to talk. If I hear even a whisper of you visiting the dungeon, I'll send every single one that's been on duty to wash latrines for the next year."

"Would your citizens really be that upset to find out I am a witch here to help Lomar?"

"Some would be, but I'm more concerned about them finding out about his affliction and the concerns surrounding it. If they believe it's infectious, that's when the true problems will begin."

"Handsome and wise," she stated before she could stop herself.

"You think I'm handsome?"

"As if you don't know," she scoffed, hoping he didn't see her hot cheeks.

"Not as handsome as Lomar."

"That would be a matter of taste. He's a little too pretty."

He laughed. "Don't tell him that. He prides himself on being the more attractive of us."

"Speaking of whom, now that night's fallen, it's time for another visit."

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"I told you I needed to study the curse he's under. That includes when it's most active."

"Very well, but keep in mind, at this hour he'll have been put in the chains. Even the medallion isn't enough to keep the madness completely at bay once the sun goes down."

"You do realize the medallion will have to come off if I'm to properly assess."

Kormac grunted. "Aye. I know. Forgive me if I'm not eager. I hate seeing Lomar being used."

They'd begun their descent, the stairs shallow and easy to navigate until a rat raced by followed by a cat. Fionna swayed but before she could regain her balance, she found herself pressed against a firm body.

She looked up and her lips parted. "Thank you."

It should have been the right reply, and yet for some reason Kormac thrust her from him as if she were diseased and grumbled, "Let's get this over with."

And they said women were moody.