Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
“I’m sure you are right. Tuella,” King Cheral calls softly, and the reflection blurs. A moment later, another appears.
I inhale sharply as a sea of these red-eyed soldiers fills the water’s surface, charging through a forested area. The higher the kell climbs, the farther the image extends, all the way to the mouth of a cave. More pour out of it. “Where is this?”
“Leaving your western mountains and traveling south.”
“Toward Bellcross?”
“I do not know your realm well enough to say.”
The kell swerves back around, giving me a complete view, and my stomach sinks with dread. I’ve never seen an army that size before. Running alongside them is the odd grif and nethertaur, bound in chains and hauling ballistae on their backs.
The bird speeds toward the billows of smoke ahead as if it needs to show us what’s there. Northern villages pepper these remote forests, filled with mortals who wish to live cuff-free and not fed upon. I know what we’re about to see before the kell looks down to share the view of burning huts and bloodied bodies.
I doubt these beasts broke their stride as they tore through, slashing and killing. They move as if on horseback, racing toward a finish line. At this speed, they could reach Norcaster by nightfall.
“Does my brother know about this force?” I ask as the image blurs and Tuella’s black irises return.
King Cheral shrugs. “He and the new Ybarisan queen are preoccupied.”
“On the other side of the mountain range, so likely not.” I curse as I pace around the pedestal. “An army that size will decimate Bellcross and all in their path.” They could split forces, one half ravaging Islor while the other half wraps around and hems in Zander. I don’t know that all the realms’ might will be enough to stop what’s coming. “We need to warn my people.”
“We do?”
“Do not show me the imminent destruction of my realm and then play games with me!” I roar.
The guards rush forward, fists gripping their sword hilts.
King Cheral lifts a hand to stay them.
I temper my anger. It will get me nowhere and fast. “There is only one reason for an army that size.”
“To conquer a realm,” he agrees.
“Realms,” I correct, my voice booming through the vacuous space. “What do you think is going to happen after they sweep through Islor? You honestly believe this king will stop there? With an army like this? ‘All will bow before me.’” I recite the closing line of that letter.
“The usurper king speaks the truth.” Tuella’s cold gaze is on Cheral. “This King Malachi does not walk in the shadow. He exists in it.”
King Cheral folds his arms across his chest. “What do you suggest, Atticus?”
I can’t tell if he’s being genuine or an arse. “We need to send word to them now, as fast as we can, so Zander can plan accordingly. Perhaps use those beasts of his to attack. Carve their numbers, stall their pace. He needs time.”
“You think he can win against a great army of this size with time?” King Cheral’s voice is laced with doubt.
“I cannot say it will be enough,” I admit. “My brother is the most intelligent person I know, but his talents lie in diplomacy, and there is to be none with a king who brings an army like this.” Where the fuck did he come from? I’m sure Zander and Romeria would know.
“What about you?”
My responding chuckle is grim. “I do not aspire to reclaim the throne, if that is what you are suggesting.”
“Not the throne. I agree that wearing a crown is not your forte. But wearing a sword and leading an army … that, I doubt anyone is better at.”
“Careful, or you might accidentally flatter me.” I smirk. “Zander will never hand me the reins of Islor’s army again, not after what I did to him.”
“What if you held the reins to twenty thousand soldiers?” King Cheral watches me closely.
I falter. “What are you proposing?”
He ambles over to the balcony, to look out upon his palace’s pools and waterfalls. “That I release you so that you may lead a sizable army of Kierish and Islorian soldiers to serve your brother in defeating this shadow that threatens us all, in exchange for a percentage of fertile land within your plains.”
“You wish me to negotiate my release.” I bark with laughter. “I am a captured usurper king. I can make all kinds of promises that I will never be able to grant you. You realize that, yes?”
“I do.” King Cheral smiles. “And a less honorable prisoner would not have admitted that so quickly.”
“Or perhaps a less foolish one.” Still, the prospect of my release, of bringing an army of twenty thousand soldiers to turn the tide of the storm that is about to hit … “Look, if I survive this battle and if my brother reclaims the throne and if he does not swiftly execute me, I can promise you that Kier’s aid will not be forgotten, and its current plight will not be dismissed.” Kier will never be granted land, but favorable trade terms? That may be feasible.