Sons of Ironstorm: Book 5 - Griffon's War

Prologue: Calling the First House

Never once in the forty-plus cycles they had known each other had Festus been given a reason to doubt Tam. And, as he looked over his shoulder at his oldest friend, comrade, and adviser, he saw no reason to begin now.

"If any man would have withstood the assault of those shadow giants and their demons to evacuate his city in order, as it appears they have, it would be Lawrence," Tam added as Festus' eyes fell onto him.

"Not to mention, he is one of the foretold Wielders of a Weapon of Power," a second voice chimed in from Festus' left to point out. "Your grandson wields the Tree Staff, a most puissant weapon against the Shadow! It would've given him the strength to endure the Abysslords' assault!"

Festus slowly turned to look at the second speaker, eyes narrowed.

"You forget, elf, that I have an original copy of your Norak Utterance in the Ice Watch's library vault," he growled. "I know what my grandson is, and what he's capable of. Perhaps even more so than you and your kind."

The elf, her features mostly hidden beneath a heavy cowl worn against the icy weather outside the keep, inclined her head slightly, unbowed by Festus's heavy tone.

"A copy that we had to point out to you, your Majesty," she retorted. "And that we taught you how to read."

"Careful, cleric," Daertha bluntly directed before Festus could reply. "Do not disrespect the lord of Humanity's First House with your boorish attitude. Your elvish kingdoms aren't so mighty that we can't chastise them for their lack of respect."

This time the bow of the elf's head was significantly deeper.

"My apologies, your Majesty, General," she said, her tone mollifying. "I meant no disrespect. I only sought to reassure you, sire, that your grandson has the power and ability to win through any Shadow attack."

"Of course he does," the Silvermane tightly replied, a hand gesture signaling Daertha to calm himself before the fiery Caledonian could speak further. "He's an Ironstorm." And, for a long moment, pride in what his grandson had become warred with concern about the chaos he had been thrust into by the forces of Fate and prophecy.

Then, with the pragmatic resolve that was an Ironstorm hallmark, he pushed those feelings aside and stood from his chair. Then, after carefully refolding the scrap of parchment in his hand and tucking it into his belt, he took hold of his sheathed northern broadsword, which had leaned against the chair's side, with a gauntleted hand.. A final look at first the elf followed by one at the colonel, then the powerful war king was striding, sword in hand, to the chamber's massive fireplace that dominated an outside wall. A gesture brought Daertha over to join him.

"So, while Keva has been cleansed, Tam, Talemon has fallen to the demons," he observed in a voice meant only for his old friend, eyes narrowed as he stared into the flames. "With the buffer kingdoms to their north emptied and Herd Master Tromn and the Quada in the south pinned in the Ffta by the Dark Tide, my grandson's kingdom has no hope of reprieve." A muscle danced with tension in his jaw for a second time before it disappeared. "Yet I cannot stand still any longer. Keva must act!" He looked over at Daertha. "How fare the kingdoms of the Hammer?"

"They still reel against the forces of the enemy, Festus," the lean general quietly replied, reaching out to lay a comforting hand on the king's shoulder, knowing how much the Ironstorm monarch feared for the safety of his family in the south. "Our scouts say the alliance force that freed significant parts of Hernak and Kaph hold steady, but Morgan has only just recently defeated the Dark Tide at Quillus. Xanchalda is gone, as is Septus, and we've no word from Seamus's forces in the MaKalech."