The War of The Magi : Book Two

Chapter Eight

Nine chairs surrounded a circular table that looked as if it had been shaped and carved from the ground itself. The entire room was chilled until torches were brought in to light the wall sconces. Senea looked around until Lord Snowthorne guided her towards the largest chair on the furthest side of the door. Sitting, she waited until Magnar came beside her, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other grasping his scabbard steady.

Lady Elika came fluttering in next, Ylva being dragged behind her. Zephyr was ushered in, glancing around like a lost child until he was forcibly seated at the table. Lord Snowthorne sat next to him, nodding his head as he waved his hand in for the rest of the people to come in. Sir Hector, Sir Orwen, Sir Lement, Lady Mala, Sir Braund, and even Allard had made their way in, all but the young Lord finding a seat at the table.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lady Mala cut right to the chase, eyes searching amongst the people seated. "A Council meeting called just as we are about to leave?"

"In due time, Lady Mala," Lord Snowthorne said as he lifted a hand. "My messengers are bringing the concerning news as we speak."

Sir Hector huffed and adjusted his cloak, tightening it around his shoulders. Sir Lement fidgeted and turned the moment he heard the echoing footsteps coming from the hall. Lord Snowthorne stood, nodding once at the guards so that they could open the doors wide.

He cleared his throat and gestured to the five men and women who came in, each one having a bundle of missives and scrolls in their arms. Carefully, they placed them on the table, pushing them towards the center they best could.

"Over the night and into the morning, these have come in. They are from all across Itod; every city, every town, even a few remote villages have sent hawks to us." Lady Mala reached towards one, a bluish grey wax seal broken on the edge. "Draithes have been attacking in droves."

There was a hushed quiet amongst them, no one even daring to breathe. Senea's gaze shot over to Ylva, worry lines surrounding her face. Ylva looked back, just as confused as the rest of them.

"I wouldn't normally call a council meeting for such a matter, but the fact that it has occurred during a festival time brings fear to my heart." Lord Snowthorne nodded towards them, adjusting himself in his chair.

"All of the cities have been attacked?" Sir Braund questioned, three of the messages in front of him with a blood red wax seal on each one. "Why?"

"How is the better question," Sir Orwen responded. "We've been reporting nothing but drops in the creatures and to have all of them attack at once?"

Zephir glanced around, pushing his chair out, the scraping against stone causing each one to look at him. "I believe I shouldn't be here."

"You stand for your brother, Zephir. Don't think that Yasdenia wasn't attacked."

Senea looked at Zephir, watching as he reached into the pile, pulling out a single parchment paper with a golden wax seal. He scanned the letter, and glanced back up at Lord Snowthorne before pulling back in his chair.

Her throat tightened as she stood, glancing around at each of the people in the room. "How many Draithes?"

"Hundreds, assuming by the amount of towns hit. Possibly thousands, your grace," Lord Snowthorne reported. He heaved a sigh and threw one of the missives closest to him back into the center of the pile. "I want to know how we can stop this from happening."

Ylva stepped forward, just beside Magnar, as she glanced at the table. "Queen Senea," she said, her voice barely able to rise up to a normal speaking level. "I want to tell them."