Victory's Price

Mollen - Wolf - Phoenix (Part Sixty - One)

Chapter 61

Quiet seemed to follow him these days; an intense, expectant quiet. As Moll's quivering feet crunched onto the famous pale gravel of Eyrr's beaches, it became the only sound. Such a hush had fallen over that he even caught himself expelling a breath of relief as a seagull screamed.

Water ran in tiny rivulets between the pebbles. It was far colder, here, beside the bare sea. Moll looked up, taking in the remains of society.

These were the people that already lived in rags, these were the people that knew how harsh life could be. They were the survivors, the ones that knew what to do when times were rough. But still they crowded around meagre campfires, the damp driftwood sending a foul black smoke through the air. Still they huddled together, searching for a warmth that the sodden earth would not provide.

Moll rubbed his arms and stepped slowly forward into the squalid masses.

"Perhaps we should not have brought him here." Kat whispered behind him. "He's not used to this."

But, though she was right, though he could barely stomach the sight of such simple suffering, she need not have worried. As a Lord, these sights had offended him. But with responsibility came concern and more than a little guilt.

But he would not take this on his shoulders, not the way she expected him to. He had wronged those upstairs more than these adaptable peoples. They were cold, they were wet and they were hungry. But he caught the steely determination in their eyes in the moments before they bowed their heads.

He was Mollen Sante, the Lord that gave. And now he was king.

These were his men, his women, his children. These would be his army, when he needed it, and they bowed their heads because they chose to, not because they had to.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, a general question to them all.

There was a chorus of nods but it remained quiet, the sound of the sea throwing herself against the shore echoing loudly in the void.

Moll nodded also.

"Me too." He agreed, beginning to trudge through the camp. "But it is the taste of retribution that my body craves."

He kept his voice low, his tone conversational. This was not to be a big speech, this was not to throw the heart into a frenzy or boil the blood. They were already waiting, they were already prepared and they were already his. Moll spoke to catch their attention, to draw their gaze, and already a few heads were lifting.

Kat walked silently at his one shoulder, Duke the other. She seemed not to have corrections to make to his approach, this time, and he wondered if she approved.

"I need your help, though." He said, "I need a little of your wisdom."

They were all looking now; strong, blank faces. No king asked for aid, no king bar this one. And despite the wash of Kat's panicked disapproval, it was the load of their curiosity that weighed the most.

"Tell me," Moll said, finding a rock and settling himself down. "Tell me about the Stars."

And it was that day that he learnt, that day that he discovered what his world was made of.

xXXx

Wolf tripped, sprawling to the floor.

They were here.

And in the moment before his death, he remembered what he was made of. When the inevitability of his demise stared him down with glowing eyes, the fear simply slipped from his shoulders. Things that could be changed were worth his attention but this beast, nigh on invisible and certain to take his throat, faded into insignificance.