Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Magic of Thorskaill
Drawn to Her
The first sign of Thorskaill Village was not a cottage or a curl of smoke rising above the trees, but light.
Small flickers of it dotted the forest ahead, glowing softly against the deepening gray of the afternoon. They appeared to float among the trees, some high in the branches, others hovering only a few feet above the snow-covered ground.
Dravic slowed his horse. “What are those?”
Ernach glanced toward the lights as if there was nothing unusual about them. “They mark the way to Thorskaill.”
“Torches would do the same.”
“They would.”
Dravic waited for more, but none came.
He frowned at the older man. “What are they?”
Ernach smiled. “Lights.”
“I can see that.”
“Then why did you ask?” Ernach chuckled, shaking his head.
Dravic’s arm tightened around Adira as his patience did the same.
A soft chuckle came from somewhere behind him as well.
“Whoever finds that amusing can spend the night outside the village.”
Silence followed.
Adira looked up at him, the movement drawing his attention. There was amusement in her eyes, sensing a bit of glee in Ernach’s expression, though she wisely kept it from reaching her smile.
“You as well?” Dravic accused.
Her lips pressed tightly together, seeing the king was annoyed.
Dravic shook his head and looked ahead again.
The lights grew more numerous as they traveled, illuminating a path that had become increasingly difficult to distinguish beneath the freshly fallen snow. No flame burned within them, nor did they appear attached to anything. They simply floated there, casting a faint glow over the ground.
Dravic did not like what he could not explain. And there seemed to be far too much in Driochmor he could not explain.
Adira appeared to feel differently. She watched the lights with fascination, turning her head as they passed each one. Once, one of the small glowing orbs drifted closer, hovering near her shoulder before rising suddenly and disappearing among the branches.
She smiled. Of course she did. Everything about Driochmor seemed to delight her. The thought lingered longer than Dravic cared for it to.
She had been happier since entering this strange land. He had noticed it in the forest when she wandered among the trees, in her fascination with things everyone else approached cautiously, and now in the pleasure shining in her eyes as she watched the strange lights.
It should have pleased him. Instead, it left him oddly unsettled.
“Thorskaill,” Ernach announced.
Dravic’s attention shifted ahead.
The forest opened gradually rather than ending abruptly, revealing cottages scattered among the trees as if the village had been built around the forest instead of clearing it away.
Some stood close enough to enormous trunks that Dravic wondered how the roots had not pushed through their stone walls.
Others disappeared partially beneath heavy growths of vines that remained inexplicably green despite the winter cold.
Warm lights glowed from windows and smoke rose from chimneys. Nothing about the village appeared threatening. Yet the moment they were spotted, everything stopped.
A man carrying an armload of wood halted halfway across the path. Two women standing beside a cottage ceased their conversation and turned. A child who had been running after another child was snatched up by a woman and hurried inside.
Doors began to close. Not all of them, but enough.
Dravic scowled. “They know who I am?”
Ernach glanced at him. “Word travels quickly in Driochmor.”
“Apparently faster than fairies.”
“I heard that!”
Fiora’s voice came from somewhere behind them, though Dravic could not see her. He did, however, ignore her.
More villagers had gathered now, though none approached. They stood near cottages or along the path, watching the king’s troop enter their village with expressions that ranged from suspicion to open displeasure.
No one bowed.
Seger moved his horse closer. “My king—”
“Do nothing.”
Seger looked at him. “They show you no respect.”
“I can see that.”
“They should bow to their king.”
“And forcing them to their knees will earn me what?”
Seger said nothing.
Dravic continued forward.
Adira felt the difference in him. His arm remained around her, his body seemingly relaxed behind her, but she had come to know him well enough to recognize when his thoughts were busy. His gaze moved everywhere, taking in faces, cottages, the men standing protectively near their families.
She wondered what he saw that she did not. Then a sound slipped into her silence.
A voice.
She stiffened. It was gone before she could grasp the word. She searched the faces around them, desperate to know where it had come from, but too many mouths moved at once as villagers spoke among themselves.
Another sound reached her, then nothing.
Dravic’s fingers touched her chin.
She looked up.
His brow furrowed.
He had felt her tense.
Adira smiled and gave a small shake of her head, but this time his eyes remained on hers. He did not believe her.
Before he could question her further, Ernach spoke.
“That will be Merek.”
A broad-shouldered man was making his way toward them. Age had streaked his dark hair with gray, but there was nothing frail about him. He walked directly toward the king without hesitation and stopped several paces from Dravic’s horse.
He did not bow.
Dravic waited.
So did Merek.
The silence between them stretched until Seger shifted impatiently in his saddle.
Finally, Merek spoke. “King Dravic.”
Adira’s breath caught. She heard it. Not clearly enough to distinguish both words, but she heard his name again… Dravic.
Her hand closed instinctively over the king’s arm.
His attention immediately dropped to her.
Merek noticed.
So did Ernach.
Dravic looked from Adira to the man standing before him. “You know who I am. That saves introductions.”
“Aye.”
“And yet you do not bow.”
Merek’s expression remained unchanged. “Would it make you more of a king if I did?”
Seger drew a sharp breath.
Dravic raised one hand before the Hunter could speak. “Nay.”
Merek seemed surprised by the answer.
Dravic studied him. “But it tells me much about how you view your king.”
“We have seen little reason to view any king favorably.”
There it was. Not rebellion. Something more troublesome… resentment.
Dravic glanced at the villagers watching them. Some quickly looked away while others did not.
He had seen that same look in defeated men who obeyed because they had no choice. Such obedience lasted only until someone offered them another choice.
Tharne could offer one.
The thought struck hard. If the warlord reached people like these before Dravic gave them reason to stand with Scotara, Tharne could know victory. Some in Driochmor might even simply open the door and invite him in.
Dravic looked back at Merek. “I am not the king who gave you reason to distrust the crown.”
“Nay,” Merek said. “But you wear the same crown.”
Dravic could not argue with that, nor would he.
“What will it take for you to judge the man wearing it rather than those who wore it before him?”
For the first time, Merek’s certainty faltered, only slightly.
But Dravic saw it.
The villagers nearest them appeared equally surprised.
Merek’s eyes narrowed as he studied him. “You truly wish an answer?”
“I would not have asked otherwise.”
“Then stay long enough in Driochmor to hear from those here.”
Dravic gave a single nod. “I intend to.”
Merek’s gaze shifted briefly to Adira before returning to the king. “You and the woman will have a cottage. Your men will be given shelter where we can find it. The rest will have to make do in the meeting hall.”
“That will suffice,” Dravic said, approving it.
Merek turned away, then stopped. “No weapons are drawn within Thorskaill unless we draw ours first.”
Seger bristled. “You dictate terms to your king?”
Merek looked at Dravic rather than the Hunter.
Dravic understood exactly what the man was doing… testing him.
“Agreed.”
“My king—”
“Enough, Seger.”
Merek gave Dravic the faintest nod before walking away.
Seger waited until the man was out of hearing before moving his horse alongside the king’s. “You should not have agreed to that.”
“I should ride into a village that already distrusts me and allow armed men to threaten them?”
“We are here to protect you.”
“Then protect me without starting a war in the middle of a village.”
Seger’s mouth tightened.
Dravic looked toward the people of Thorskaill once more. “They are afraid of us.”
“They do not look afraid.”
“Fear is always recognizable.”
Seger followed his gaze.
Dravic’s attention settled on a woman ushering two children inside while her husband remained outside watching the warriors.
“These people will have a choice soon enough. Scotara or Tharne.”
“They belong to Scotara,” Seger said as if that was answer enough.
“That does not mean they will fight for it.”
Seger went silent.
Dravic looked toward Merek disappearing between the cottages.
“And if I cannot give them a reason to choose Scotara, then I have failed them as their king long before Tharne ever reaches our shores.”
Merek had not gone far when he stopped and looked back at the king.
“The cottage is this way.”
Dravic dismounted and reached for Adira. His hands settled around her waist, and he lifted her from the horse, lowering her slowly to the ground.
She smiled when her feet touched the snow, relieved that the soreness from earlier had eased considerably.
His hands remained at her waist. He needed to speak with Merek and see what the man could tell him, and yet? He wanted to be alone with Adira, in the quiet they shared, and take her in his arms and for a while, just a small while, forget he was king.
Adira tapped at his hand to get his attention. His focus elsewhere, and she cast a quick glance to the side.
Dravic let his musings behind and followed her glance. Several villagers were watching them with much curiosity. He released her reluctantly and looked forward to the time they could be alone.