Tales of the Vangen: The Dead King of Danic (Book 3)

Chapter 8: She Who Calls the Storm

The air was crisp in Brand's throat as they rode off that morning, their horses chopping fresh tracks in the heavy blanket of snow. It was a quiet, solemn affair, their talk of high kings and rebels still fresh in his mind. Felt like he'd heard it all before, as if he were staring into a mirror of the past. Another kingdom. Another rebellion bringing it to ruin. Guess there really wasn't such a thing as peace in this world. Chaos was the norm now.

He winced as his thoughts drifted back to mother. At the very least she'd been the one constant in his life. The one peace. The only person who might have truly loved him. His father had only seen him as a tool, as did Uncle Raylein when the truth had been revealed. She'd been the one thing in his life he could rely on.

And now she was gone too. Abandoning him just as Regis had. Only the Vangen wanted him now, and even then he suspected their love for him would only last as long as his usefulness. That was how the world worked, after all. Life had taught him this lesson well.

"You all right?" Brand flinched as he realized someone was talking to him. He looked up, saw Elba sitting loose in her saddle beside him, brows bunched up with worry. "Looked like you were seeing ghosts for a moment."

"I'm all right," he blurted out, the tips of his ears already starting to burn. "Didn't sleep well, is all. New places, you know?" He tried to think up something that would convince her otherwise. The great philosopher known as Malmar the Heavy Lidded used to say that only half of our bodies fall asleep the first night in a new place. The other half remains vigilant in case of encroaching enemies." He shrugged nervously as he realized just how boring he must have sounded. "Or so I've read."

Elba nodded along, looking neither worried nor reassured. "This Malmar fellow might be onto something. Would explain the shit dreams I've had these past few nights."

Brand perked up at that. "You too?" He asked.

"Oh, aye. Real wild ones. Dreams of tranquil lakes and burning cities. Voices whispering in the dark. Sometimes I'm running from something. Sometimes I'm chasing after someone. That sort of thing."

Brand swallowed past the growing lump in his throat. "You too?" Is what he almost asked before he cut himself short. "Really?"

Elba threw out a nonchalant hand. "But I've never taken stock in such things. Dreams are just dreams. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"Nothing more," Brand said, wanting to believe her. But even he had his doubts. The masked woman he saw every night was anything but a dream. "Nothing less."

"Although, I have to admit it may not be the scenery that's ruining my beauty sleep." Elba's eyes drifted over to where Libro rode at the front of the pack. Keela was beside him, the two talking in a friendly manner. The sorceress laughed at some jape he'd said, touching him lightly on the arm.

The Captain was good like that. Better with words then Brand had any right to speak of. Where he was dull, Libro was eloquent. Where he was mundane, Libro was brilliant. Even with half an arm missing, he was more a man than Brand could ever be.

And despite his best efforts he could not snuff out the fire of envy burning in his chest. Libro was everything Brand was not. Charming. Captivating. Desired. Beloved by all. Why couldn't he be the same way? Why couldn't he be charming? What the seven hells was even wrong with him to begin with?

He imagined Keela riding beside him now, laughing at his jokes, different colored eyes fixed on his. The thought alone made his heart swell, the pyre in his chest burning that much brighter.

"Remember to watch your back, Brand," Elba said, pulling him from his thoughts yet again. "That witch is already trying to bend my man around her finger. Be careful she doesn't try it on you too."