Chapter 8 Guests II

Ayla couldn’t believe she was thinking about it but this was the perfect opportunity to get close and to listen to the conversation. She needed to know about Myrthana.

‘We are Longthorn’s and we bow before no one. Better dead than serving another,’ her father’s voice echoed in her head.

Ayla was a Longthorn and she…. She would do as she would please.

She moved and before she had a chance to change her mind, Ayla was already at the table, grabbing the pitcher. Gorn stood and pulled a chair. Tizgar choked on his wine.

Milton’s eyes widened when he noticed her, “What are you…?”

The King stopped Milton before the Mage had a chance to even finish his question, “Let her do what she wants. She is bored and wants to draw attention. Sit down, Gorn.”

Ayla wondered what would happen to her if she would throw the pitcher at the King.

Gorn gave Ayla an apologetic look and sat.

Tizgar shook his head at her, but Ayla ignored him.

“But, Rhobart,” Milton protested.

“Let her be. Don’t make me repeat myself!”

Ayla, who was already filling goblets, smiled at Milton, reassuring him.

The Fire Mage frowned and looked at her as if to tell her, ‘Don’t do something I wouldn’t do.’

“Last night a head-clan came to report strange sounds coming from the Black Forest. Members of his clan went into the forest but never returned. I sent some of my Paladins to check it out. They left before sunrise,” the King said.

“What about Istiria, Drara, and Myrthana?” the bald man asked.

‘He must be from Davalon,’ Ayla thought, while she filled all the goblets. She stopped next to Milton, listening. The men forgot about her.

“Myrthana can burn to the ground and I won’t lift a finger to help them. As for Istiria, we are still waiting for the emissary. The sheikh Zayed sent a hawk with a missive. It arrived two days ago. He said that Drara didn’t suffer any attacks,” the King said. He frowned and looked at the man with white hair, “You said that they entered from Drara. So the sheikh is either lying or has no idea what’s going on in this Kingdom.”

King’s Rhobart hatred for Myrthana did not surprise Ayla.

“The sheikh is old. He should abdicate and leave the throne to one of his many sons,” Tizgar said.

“He is old and a fool and he won’t give up his throne,” Droyn commented.

“We need more magic ore,” the bald man said.

“I am aware of it, Cedric,” King Rhobart said to the bald man. “But I am also aware of the fact that I lost many men during the war, and people are trying to rebuild their clans.”

“Are you saying that there are no miners extracting the magic ore as we speak?” the man with the curly hair asked.

“What I am saying, Mauges, is that I need more men for the mines.”

“From what my spies reported, you moved the war prisoners close to the mines. I wonder why,” the bald man, Cedric said and smiled wickedly.

Her hands gripped the pitcher. The King had war prisoners. People that he wanted to use in the mines. Her people at the mercy of King Rhobart. People he should had freed once the war finished.

“Spying on me, Cedric?” King Rhobart asked and arched an eyebrow.

Cedric gave the King an apologetic gesture, “Are you saying you are not doing the same?”

King’s Rhobart lips twitched and said nothing.

Her people will be put to work in the mines. People that had families in Myrthana.

“You have no right!” Ayla said.

The men stared at her.

When will she learn to keep her mouth shut?

“If you still want to listen for gossips, I advice you to keep your mouth closed,” the King told her.

The man with the white hair stared at her, “You remind me of someone. What is your name?”

“She is no one important, Ernald. Ignore her,” the King replied.

Ayla was tired of being not important. Of being ignored. And most importantly she won’t be silenced.

“You have no right to keep war prisoners!” Ayla said again. “They have families that are waiting for them to return!”

The King finally looked at her. He was angry. So very angry.

But so was Ayla.

In a raised tone, King Rhobart told her, “I have no right you say? What about my people? Didn’t they have a right to live? But that coward and narcissistic son of a bitch killed all the war prisoners he had. My people. Good men and women.”

Ayla paled.

No one said anything. They were still looking at her, probably to see what she would say.

“Galian wouldn’t…. Surely, he didn’t… “

“And how do you know? While you played with your weeds good people, men and women both from Mirthana and Nordmar lost their lives because of a sadist that wanted to rule the continent! And Galian is no better! Do you know what he told me I can do to all the war prisoners? Kill them!” he replied in a harsh voice.

That’s what he thought? That she was playing with weeds? And Galian would not let his men die. Not like this.

“You lie! Galian cares about our... his people,” Ayla said.

The King snorted, “If you were smart enough you would have realized that Galian only cares about him.”

Arrogant bastard!

“Wine, King Rhobart?” Ayla asked in a sweet voice and smiled at him.

The King stopped breathing while he looked at her. He looked bewitched.

He lifted his goblet, “Please.”

Ayla moved closer to the King and started pouring wine into the goblet. And she kept pouring until the goblet was full. And she still kept pouring.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Wine spilled on his trousers, and then on the floor.

Still looking at her, the King lifted the goblet to his lips and drank. When he had his fill, he put the goblet on the table, shifted on the chair to better look at her.

Her heart was drumming in her chest. She did it this time.

“Rhobart,” Milton started but stopped when the King put his palm in the air.

Then he focused back on Ayla. He stared a few minutes at her. He clenched his jaw.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Ayla cringed.

She braced herself for what was to come.

“I am starting to think you dislike my clothes.”

“What?” she asked.

“First peas, now wine.”

“Peas?”

“You are as spoiled as the first time I saw you. And no matter how much time passes, t’xoria, you never change.”

There’s that word again. T’xoria.

“But I am done being patient with you,” the King continued.

Ayla shivered, fear creeping into her heart.

“What do you mean?”

“It means I am going to make your wish come true. I am taking you on an adventure.”

She must not have heard him right.

“Adventure?”

The King nodded, “But I am not sure you will like this adventure, t’xoria.”

Ayla frowned, “What does t’xoria mean?”

“It means that you better rest because we leave at dawn. Milton, take her to her room.”

The Mage stood and started guiding Ayla back to her room.

They were almost out the door when the King said, “This is the first and the last time you humiliate me in front of my guests. If you will do it again, I will punish you. And trust me, you won’t like it.”

Her back stiffened.

“Keep walking,” Milton said. “You did and said enough for today.”

*****

That night Ayla dreamed again.

She was on a meadow full of flowers. In the middle of the meadow was a woman with white hair. Her aquamarine eyes looked sad. Her lavender dress was fluttering on a soft breeze.

“Darkness is spreading through the land. It has to be stopped,” the woman said.

“What do you mean?”

“You have to find Uzriel before it is too late,” the woman continued.

“Uzriel?”

“The seven undead brothers are searching for him. If they find Uzriel first everything will be lost.”

The woman was starting to fade away.

“Wait. How will I find him?”

“The Eye of Inoss will show you the path.”

The woman disappeared.

“What is the Eye of Inoss?”

“The Avatar will know,” a voice said.