Chương 375: 9.7

Evren's wind felt like it was spinning fast enough in his chest to cut through his ribs! The two foreigners had spoken with him until the representative of the Djinn Nation arrived to inquire about the state of the High King's guests. Which had been a very curious thing to see the three women interact with one another. Adelyne had seemed as equally at ease talking to an empty shawl of silk and glittering grains as she had been speaking with Evren or his brother.

The voice with a whistling rumble of a wind and dry earth? nothing to worry about. Havel had been completely silent, but Evren suspected that was just how Havel preferred to be in general. The 'waif' had spoken little last night, but even what words she, or rather he had offered, still hummed and buzzed up and down the Wyrm's body. The simple potential that the 'waifs' represented. Wyrms could do sorcery! Not just that but it was apparently easy enough that you could do it by accident!

Fizzbunches had not found his way back to Evren in the morning so he could discuss it with his little advisor. It was unfortunate but not entirely out of the ordinary. There was probably some important endeavor that his friend needed to attend to. Evren would share the news and ask questions then. Adelyne was sure he already knew about the ability for Evren to perform Sorcery with words and emotion. But why wouldn't the wizard have told him if he did?

Or maybe bringing Adelyne and Havel to talk to him was how Fizzbunches was telling him? The Djinn representative had talked a bit with them and asked about 'signs of sorcery' which Adelyne had waved off as simply being a 'family boon' and Havel shared. After that everyone had left the room for the night. It cut short the wonderful conversation but even in the morning after Evren's spirits were not dampened! How could they be?! With news like he had gotten! That kind of fit with what he knew of the cat wizard.

How Adelyne and Havel had described the Countess' use of sorcery left him brimming with anticipation. He could do magic, and by the sound of it he likely already had! After all, he'd already listened and asked questions of the world! It had already told him what it knew! He'd just never even thought to ask, command or guide it for more than words. But always he could?! The stone of the palace could be guided like his flock? The bodies of the courtiers could obey his direction?

Finally the high king shielded by all his strange and terribly expensive sorcery could be within his grasp! The world would obey! All he had to do was simply decide what to tell it! What force of magic would be right to enact upon all the evil men among the princes, what real justice fit the crimes of High King Murad. Evren could barely hold back the trembling shivers of excitement or keep his fur from poofing out with the tension winding tighter and tighter in his lungs.

Straining to make its way out of his throat. The King and his princes were all awful, terrible people. His Regent was a peer to them and though they might suffer under the High King he had no doubts they would be as terrible or worse without him. He struggled to make all of the appointments for the morning so full of ideas for his first act of sorcery! He had to do it right, to find the perfect cut that would shear the filth of Magarska's lords from the fine wool of its people.

The morning was turning to noon and it was time for him to meet the Countess and the rest of the princes for refreshments. Fruit sweetened rose water, and other light refreshments. And then there would be the meal. Hazim was nervous beside him as they entered. Brothers together, The younger towering over his elder. Placed where they had been ordered, but soon there would be no more orders at all! Everything Adelyne had told him about Jewel filled him with hope.

Her hatred of the unjust, her standing against tyranny and her justice enacted on even Havel for his part in evil! Across from him the throne room had been arranged with cushions and three of the widest dining tables available. Set as close as could be comfortable for those left pressed in on all sides in the center. Evren at one, the Countess another and the High King at the final third. But the evening's feast would not begin in another hour at most.

He could hardly wait, he would enact his spell, The Countess and he would hold the seat of Magarska, just like she had done in her own home he would leave the land better, free! But he had to wait! Now was the time when princes and nobles were meant to talk. The words and murmurs buzzed around him, but Evren could barely pay the attention he was sure was due. The countess' arrival dragged on his senses, and by the glances his way and word of Adelyne his own presence likely drew her focus as well.

It was so hard to trust, but Adelyne had convinced him! Fizzbunches boon, Havel's redemption by sorcery! It was like a fable coming to life! And now it all fell to him! If her burden was anything like what he suffered then it was all the more amazing her composure! The tables, wide as they were, had still been placed close enough that he was certain one of them would have to suffer the terrible muting of the world.

Evren tried to ignore how much it felt like a gaping wound in his sense to have her even across the chamber from him. She was a friend of Fizzbunches and an ally, she would help him rid the world of the evil that was Murad! Her wizard, what the court of Magarska called the northern Djinn Erhard stood like a statue, somehow filling the space around him with such a feeling of boredom and disdain it would have driven men off even without the fearsome reputation of the Djinn Nation.

And in a curious mirror to Evren and the Countess he was matched on the opposite side of the room by the representative of that very same Nation. The Desert Wind's Tale, Dancing sand that Scours, Kiss of thirsting death, Beguiling granter of wishes. Sirazad. Honestly Evren was not sure why she had so many quite terrifying names, she reminded him a great deal of one of the old women that stubbornly insisted on shearing her own sheep. But given his own moniker of Wolf Prince he had doubts about their providence.

To be perfectly honest the Djinn Representative seemed just rather irritated and annoyed whenever he saw her. Then again she had to listen to the High King's requests on her homeland most days! Yeah, the annoyance was expected. It sounded like the kind of work that one was given as a punishment. One Evren had never seen much evidence Sirazad deserved. But he'd not really seen much of her at all, despite Fizzbunche's insistence she was all over the palace making his life difficult.

What few words he had with the Djinn before last night, were purely practiced 'courtesies'. Now she seemed rather more focused on the foreigners than himself. Probably because of Murad's order. Don't worry, strange desert woman wind Djinn Murad's last day was at hand! She seemed intent on being the oppositional force to erhard's solid stillness. And yet also an amusingly perfect match.

For all the sinuous ways that wind, sand and silk spun and flowed around the emptiness of her form in endless delicate motion she was astoundingly exuding even more boredom than Erhard! He turned his attention from the princes, from the horrible and deserving men to the root of all his problems. To the enactor of all his world's and so many others' pain. High King Murad.

Who stood in his finery like he was bowed by fat, sagging skin and weakened muscles, playing the aged and helpless old man even as his eyes were sharp and his prowess bolstered and guarded by sorcery. The man that would end with Evren's first act of magic! The monster had eight rings on his fingers for the feast. Three of them were the same as he had worn during the night Fizzbunches watched the former Prince of Vanand be beaten into pulp and splintered bone.

Slowly the wyrm made way to interpose his body between the High King and Hazim. It was almost time, he needed them to all be in the one room. If Havel's words were correct the further they were away the longer it might take. The greater the drain on himself. His wind spun, the world felt attentive, the stones of the chamber alert. The wood and fabric of the cushions eager to listen to him.

He had sorcery, not just any sorcery but wyrmish sorcery, able to do something that could change a thousand men into waifs like Havel! The last of the eleven princes was just arriving. It was time! Evren could make this right! It had to be the plan! Fizzbunches had guided them together so he would know the secret of sorcery for this very moment! All of the princes of Magarska were in this room, each of them their own kind of awful liar. The High King himself, who wore the labor of tens of thousands on his fingers!

Liars, thieves, men who wrote books that said his brother should be fed trash. Men that sent soldiers among the streets who beat mothers and drove children to flee for safety at a wyrm's neck! He tried to muster up the power, speaking like Adelyne said that Jewel had spoken to her of it. Looking for the words in his wind. In the power of what she called 'flame'. Evren watched the High King, listening to the lies of the princes and their various attendant courtiers.

But the words were being drowned out by the wind in his chest. The howl of it rising in his ears. There! He could feel the flame becoming more than words! He could feel the world turning towards him. The polished stones, still raw and freshly cut as far as it was concerned. He could feel the words building in the wind, whistling up his throat. Nearly ready to touch his tongue, to become a statement, a declaration, a command.

He held magic in his very jaws and at last all the evils of the world were in one place for him to slay them! Like those awful men in Kars, but so much greater and more terrible. Hazim's hand on his shoulder drew him back, turning his gaze from the high king.

"Brother, Do you smell the Adelyne woman? I don't see her... but I thought-" He nodded and took in a slow breath of the air, choked with the burning herbs and spice hanging from censors for the preference of the other princes and the king. Yes he should wait til all of his allies were present before he struck. The still foreign smell of the northern woman was indeed there, but if you looked over the crowd she was nowhere to be seen?

He turned to survey the mingling knots of shining finery and the few figures in sombrest black. That was how Fizzbunches had talked about it right? Why wasn't he here? The woman of sand, Sirazad, the Djinn that had to be it. So it was up to him, like the trickster overcoming the giant. He had to do iti alone without his little advisor. A man was standing beside the Countess, Evren's sense of him clouded by the muffling of silence that surrounded the other wyrm.

The Prince moved around the other wyrm slowly, easy steps like he would when moving around his herd, not predatory, but obviously, calm and amiable. So as to not worry them even if it was because he was searching for where a whiff of a mountain wolf or wild gryff had come from. As with his sheep the princes and their little collections of other nobles did not note him more than a passing glance. They made noises of greeting as appropriate and he returned them. Introducing Hazim to some.

But never letting his brother linger. Hazim knew the danger of being apart from Evren now. The thoughts for his 'fellow' princes were gone as soon as he passed, he was looking for danger, or a friend. Ah there she was! the Guildmistress of beggars, A ally of Fizzbunches! She was dressed in a manner like all the northerners. Black and red colors dominant with the Viznove nobles, sombre and striking at once.

Strange against the profusion of shining greens, blues, whites and yellows strung with silver and golden thread and delicate embroidery. It almost made the Viznove party seem sensible against the extravagance of the High King. But even this woman of beggars was dressed in enough fine wool to make his mother jealous. At least before they had found their own riches thanks to Evren. That was as many as he could hope for.

He took the last step he could force himself too in approaching the other wyrm, the point where he could feel the silence of the world around her bending around what Adelyne said was his own. Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work! The countess turned to face him, dipping her head.

"Evren, Prince of Vanaand." The voice was softer, gentler than he'd heard last they met, but it carried, filling the space between them. The thickness of the northern growl was no longer so overwhelming in her words, no longer leaving such a daunting harshness to her tone with the Magarskan court speech. She had left off Murad's moniker for him. How better a sign could there be to the 'intrigue' Fizzbunches was always trying to teach him?

Evren drew on his own voice, swallowing hard on his wind, at least for now the Shining Doom had done nothing to him or his. It was not her intent to blind and deafen him to the world, if he could trust the Beggar Mistress' word he unsettled her just as bad. But looking up into those solid black eyes in that serpentine face? It was not easy to remember.

"Jewel, Countess of Viznove." She dipped her head to him, the way her neck moved to accomplish it made him feel clumsy. The way she floated he realized must be from her own wind. Not used to merely sustain herself under a burden of clothing, or for swiftness in a spar, but just to be free and graceful. He hoped after he cursed the princes they might talk about it and he could learn from her the secret. She continued to speak.

"Adelyne tells me you are a keeper of sheep? My family's land of Rochford has been known for the quality of our vellum for generations, and my personal Demesne hosts many healthy flocks. In fact I am making a gift of my own spun wool cloth to Murad the first" The words were gentle, but the way she spoke? Those were not how a shepherd spoke of their animals. It threatened to latch onto the suspicion surrounding her, to confirm the lie he wanted all of this to be! Still a word caught Evren's attention.

"You spin?" It kindled his wind with hope, smothered his doubt. The other princes and their courtiers were slowly forming a channel between them. Curiously watching the two wyrms as they stood apart from each other, and spoke as if they were in close confidence. Voices almost whisper and yet clearly heard, Evren could feel their eyes considering the distance between them.

The Countess again nodded in that ever so slight dip of the head on a sweeping neck, she didn't move like Evren at all, the more he watched her the more he realized that despite the broad shape of them being similar she favored motions more like a gryff. The neck was too fluid, the nods somewhat forced, bobbing more than tilting.

"Oh yes! When I can manage to find the time, Rochford's wyrmspun wool is called such for a reason. I card and spin whenever I can spare the hours with the women's circles in Valasect." And there the tone changed, it got a little thicker and more northern, lost the softness that she had taken on, but more than that there was a joy to it, a satisfaction with her own labor. A tone his mother and little Dorka would have, about a topic he and his brothers only passingly listened to.

Evren felt momentarily frozen, they had said the Shining Doom was a Countess, a woman, but Evren had not quite fully thought what that would mean, seeing the shining scaled and bat winged serpent towering over him even from across the room speaking like his mother? He realized she truly was a woman. And she was not the same as these horrible princes! There were shuffles and murmurs around the room from the princes and Evren heard more than one chuckle softly." The shining doom of Viznove, a Spinner of thread?""

I'd heard the barbarians armed their women, but they let their warbeasts spin and make clothes?!" Before the murmurs could slip into dangerously insulting directions Murad the First clapped his hands and beamed with glittering white teeth. Evren stiffened! He'd almost forgotten his role! The vital act he had to do, for the sake of Jewel, of Fizzbunches and all the work they had done for him!

"A noble endeavor and a fine gift. I look forward to feeling your touch in my own garments, to have the hand made cloth of the Countess of Viznove? Nevermind the delight my wives will have that they finally have access to the fabled treasure. The word I hear is when treated right it is a match or better then elven silk." He watched how his elder acted against the vilest man Evren had ever met.

The countess dipped her head to the High King Murad and then spoke, voice just as soft and gentle, although with a firm steel in it.

"I am afraid, High King Murad, that I must inform you of a deception. For If what you wear now is called Elven Silk?" If he was not assured in her righteousness he'd almost think she bowed with genuine respect! Murad gave a bemused nod.

"Then the foreign peddlers in Magarska embellish and boast just as mightily as they do in Viznove. For while my own wyrmspun cloth is a finely made thing it pales entirely to true elvish silk. For I have seen such worn by one such fae, and though your finery is richer than any I've seen worn by mortal men it is no elvish silk" Hah! This must be more of Fizzbunches Intrigue! She insulted him with a compliment, Evren still did not dare at such! It sounded so much like a genuine good intention.

The High King approached then, across the room sweeping up the princes to trail in his wake. His steps solid and strong, yet lighter than they should be. The sorcery of those rings, that could only be broken by an inviolate wyrm! He moved past Evren, close enough to bite, close enough to strike down, but it was not certain to kill. Fizzbunches had warned of that much. The sorcery of his treasures would likely protect the man from any physical blow. That was of course why it had to be magic, and it had to be Evren!

Adelyne shifted beside the Countess, slipping behind her where Evren could not see, steps softened to be unheard, but he could still smell her even smothered by the Countess' silencing of the world. Murad continued speaking, brightly, boastfully, arraying himself in front of Evren, stepping into the empty corridor that had opened between them. Visibly aligning himself with 'his' Wyrm.

"Well that sounds like an excellent story to hear before we begin the feast. It's been many long years since we last spoke Lady Jewel, and you had not met an elf then!" Was this the right moment? No he should wait until he was given a clear signal. Fizzbunches had told him how important it was to not betray a plot too soon, this did not feel like the time. He needed the wait.

The Countess flowed into her speech as easily as she seemed to do anything, boasting and spinning the tale as she had claimed she did with wool. It was all about her meeting with an Elf, some primordial thing, A foreign and ancient creature. Claimed to have a stronghold in the east, with cities made of wild woods and carved into the tallest cliffs of mountains. It was a strange story. Apparently the thing everyone was sold as "elf silk" was just a skilled imitation? That must have been a distraction to buy time.

Evren's focus returned to the High King, not staring at him openly of course, but kept in his attention, able to be glanced in the corner of the eye. Felt in the air close, smelt and heard. There was a feeling of whispers around the man, from the rings on his fingers, from his clothes, so close Evren could just barely discern them. Whispers of violence, of solidity, of speed, of grace. Sorcery Evren would break!

"A fascinating and welcome revelation Countess, but before we settle in to eat there are matters of honor and proper respect due. You were welcomed to my table and through my lands as a guest given all hospitality and in this others have transpired to shame me." Silence fell over all the courtiers and princes. The Countess turned to him, posture proud and face serene.

"The matter of Toplet and the defense of Orad?" The High King dipped his head towards the Wyrm that towered over him.

"Just so, to see your party assaulted on the road by the honorless monsters of Wallachia? It is a shame upon my hospitality. Your prowess and honor in defending my own people is due recognition!" Evren could feel the lies in the man's words. But there was no sign in her face that the Countess could sense them. It was masterful of her!

"You have always been supportive of the people of Magarska's suffering under the heaven's curse of the Tepes Patricide. And now you have fought righteously against the horrors that beset them in the night and spilled your own's blood in their defense. Although you are not of my Kingdom, Magarska owes you a boon lest we all suffer the dishonor!" The countess seemed like she considered him carefully then dipped her head low enough to meet his eyes, raising back up in a fluid, disconcerting swoop.

And there was a pained look to those solid black eyes, a frown and even a hint of contrition to the brows over them. He pulled in, this was it, he could see it all coming together, it had to be the perfect moment to strike. Jewel would prepare the stage for him just like Fizzbunches explained.

"No, It is not just Magarska that has amends to make, I can accept no such boon until there is a balance made, Vladimir Tepes is a monster made by the workings of Cantor Reborn and High King Mathias and as charged representative bearing the authority of his voice I-"" LIAR!" Evren took his moment. Wind a churning fury inside him bursting forth, almost more than he could contain. He stepped forth, like a hero, ready to slay the monster. His voice echoing in the dead silence of the room.

His body curled to surround his brother safely from all sides. Wing flaring wide, feathers bristling, hackles raising and lips curling towards a snarl. The pressure of the Countess Wyrm's presence was pushed back by the rising fury in his own throat. Her steps taking her out of the line of fire, yes this was the right moment! He was going to do it! The high king's face did not show concern but he stepped back and turned towards Evren, mistakenly thinking he was speaking to the countess?

She made a performance of fury for the benefit of the princes, then Adelyne's hand and a whisper Evren could not discern apparently calmed her. Her words came out strained and harsh as she fixed Evren with those shining coal black eyes.

"I beg your pardon Prince of Vanand?" A perfect performance! He dipped his head low to her, the pressure of the other wyrm, the presence of the two of them interposing made simply standing his ground feel like trying to climb too high. But he had to do it!

"I apologize Shining Countess, but I cannot stand for you or your land to be cheated by-" The High king was already across the room, the stone cracking under his foot as he leapt high enough to brush the domed ceiling, then slid down the column of the chamber to slow his fall." Wolf Prince of Vanand! You will still your tongue!" The other princes were shifting, moving back away from Evren and Jewel. Fleeing the center of the chamber that had been at least until that moment peaceful.

Hazim tensed against Evren's fur, but he was encircled now, covered from above by his brother's wings and all other avenues of attack by fur and scales stronger than any armor. He also had his sorcerous amulet. But in the Capital a seemingly frail old man could kick a fit warrior into a pulp or leap across the throne room. Evren stood his ground and said the words that felt right in his wind.

"High King, Murad the First, I declare you a liar and an oathbreaker!" The high king's voice was quiet and sharp." Wolf Prince of Vanand, By our vows to the heavens and the stars you will obey and-" Evren roared at the king." You sent a host of Vampires against the Countess of Viznove that slaughtered hundreds of your own people!" There it was out in the open, just like Jewel and Fizzbunches must have wanted, it was time! His wind was up, it was out in the air, the world rang with his words.

The stones whispered back to him, even in the muffled silencing aura of the Countess evren could feel a soft echo of his words and their truth. The princes of Magarska were all turned to stare at Murad the Conqueror, first of his name. The Prince of Árpádok looked stricken, then slowly his eyes lit in fury. Evren shifted his intended words, maybe one of them could be spared. One of the High King's courtiers took a step towards him." Father, you did this?! After what the fiends did? After what they did to my son?

My Wife!?" The high king's face was flat. Eyes scanning the princes and their guests. His nostrils flaring as he lands his gaze on Evren.

"This is treason and treachery, this breaks our vow to the heavens you mongrel child." The lips pulled back into a bright smile.

"You are all my princes and bound by heaven sanctified pacts. Magarska is bound by our vows to the stars. This gnoll reared wyrm has broken his pact! Princes and Soldiers do your duty!" They moved, even the prince of Árpádok stepped as one with the others, encircling the high king, hands at the ready, whispering flares and sparks of meaning rising around them. Not as thick or potent as those around Murad, but still notable.

But more damning was the words, the way the world seemed to lurch in their bodies before they obeyed. The evil of what this man had done, making collars for even the princes?! Evren could feel the moment, the world eager to listen. His words had already sparked its attention with the truth of them. His wind rushed from his throat with every breath. Filling the air invisibly. He saw the traitors and the liars arrayed against him. Ready for his judgement. He'd spare most of them. But Murad had to pay!

Perhaps some were bound unwillingly to their service now. But most still closed ranks without the leash of the heavens, at the fringes soldiers were coming down the halls. Evren had sorcery, and he could feel the punishment fitting for them all. At the way that the high king spat the word'gnoll'. They thought his family were so monstrous? Evren would show them monstrous! He took a breath in and began to speak the words."

Murad the Conquerer, You and-" And, then like a sodden blanket thrown over him, his words were choked, stopped, smothered. Barreled over as he was plunged into a momentarily and paralyzing silence from everything in the world. What? What was going on?! His words were smothered away and the world filled with only a single thunderous declaration of a foreign command." Stop!" Why did that sound like Jewel's voice!?