She looked the part of a warrior queen, thought Hyden: fierce and commanding, and seemingly ready for battle, in the same plated leather girdle, over glittering chain mail, that she had worn when they had met in the forest.
Earlier in the day, Hyden had learned from Andra that Queen Willa had dreamt of his, Mikahl’s, and Vaegon’s coming. Obviously, the Queen of Highwander didn’t ride out to meet with everyone that rode into her lands. He hadn’t had a chance to talk with her about any of that yet, but he wanted to. He was curious to learn, if her dream had also included the attack of the Choska, or if the prophetic nature of her dream, had revealed some other happening that never had a chance to take place.
The nature of prophecy is fractured, he reminded himself, but still, he was curious. After some prodding, Andra had revealed that in the Queen’s dream, Mikahl had flown on a horse of fire and light, and had somehow saved Xwarda from coming under siege. Hyden didn’t think that Mikahl would survive, much less be able to do anything, on any sort of horse, anytime soon.
General Spyra was a big, round-faced man, with the build of a barrel keg. He wasn’t fat or even plump. He was just round and big. His head was balding, and the little hair that remained, was grayish white and ran in a strip around the back of his head, from temple to temple. He wore old ringed leather armor, that looked to have been put to proper use over the years, and he carried a dull gray helmet under his arm. At his hip, was a sheathed blade, which was probably as wide as Hyden’s thigh, and at least four feet long. The look on his face showed that he was anything, but pleased about the situation at hand.
From behind the heavy curtains, Hyden saw a huge moth come fluttering towards the Queen. Only after Willa put her hand out, and the thing landed on it, did Hyden see that it wasn’t a moth. It was a little blue fairy man, right out of one of Berda’s tales. He tried not to stare, and it was all he could do to keep Talon from instinctively going after the little guy.
A servant brought around goblets, full of a light fruity wine. When he was gone, the announcer banged his staff on the floor again in three sharp raps. “Crack! Crack! Crack!” and the council of war began.
“King Jarrek, you’ve already heard the tale of the demon that escaped us in the forest just north of here,” Queen Willa started. “Please tell us all of the battle at Castlemont, so that we might better understand what sort of enemy we are up against.”
“Forgive me, your majesty,” General Spyra cut in, before Jarrek could start his tale. “We have an army – No, two armies, marching freely through the kingdom with the intent of taking this very city. What happened in Wildermont, between them and the Westlanders, has no real bearing on our current situation.”
“I understand your concerns for the well-being of Highwander and Xwarda, General, but I believe that the same dark force that was behind the attack on Wildermont is behind all of this madness.”
Queen Willa reached over to the General, who was sitting immediately to her right, and gave his hand a pat of reassurance.
“We will get to the defense of Xwarda, I assure you.” Then to King Jarrek, who was waiting patiently for his chance to speak: “Please, go ahead.”
Jarrek stood, and spoke with heavy emotion of the fall of his castle city, the herding and selling of his people to the Dakaneese slavers, and even of the way that young King Glendar had so casually beheaded several of his kingdom’s notables, and displayed their heads like trophies. But mostly, he spoke of the Westland wizard’s incredibly destructive power. When he was done, he slipped down into his chair, as if utterly defeated, and yielded the floor to Targon, who had witnessed the happenings as well.
“The power Pael wielded was beyond mere human capability. Not even the great wizards of old could have wrought so much destruction, with so little effort. I sensed the taint of brimstone in the air as well.”
Targon spoke as if he were lecturing a classroom full of students.
“It was as if one of the greater demons had lent Pael his power. He even…”
“The demon was torn in two!” Hyden burst out over the Master Wizard.
He had jumped to his feet so quickly, that Talon had to flutter his wings over Hyden’s head, to keep from tumbling to the floor.
“The White Lady, the Goddess of my people, told me that only part of the demon has escaped the Seal. The other half of it is still trapped in the…the…the…”
Hyden couldn’t remember the word she had used. In his awkward pause, Talon flapped down onto the table before him.
“Nedders,” he finally said knowing that he hadn’t gotten it quite right.
He looked around the table at all the strange faces staring back at him, and with a face, hot with embarrassment, quickly sat back down. Talon’s fierce gaze met those faces though, and many of those eyes were abruptly averted. Hyden was never more thankful for his feathered companion. The hawkling’s pose was unyielding, and full of swell-chested pride.