The Whirlwind in the Thorn Tree (58 page)

“Yes, the ears of our enemies, splendid. I’ll have Eleanor make them into a necklace for you.”

“I most certainly will not, you disgusting ghouls.”

“The expedition will consist of myself, the Chiral, Ross, my daughter Noreen, and the Chiral’s two sons Sawyer and Walter,” said Normand. “Once we reach the Frontier, we will be departing the presence of the Ainean military contingent and continuing on alone. I want full might retained here in Ostlyn and at Maplenesse, as well as in Fed Panaeg and Fi Himdet, in case our antagonist attempts to lure us away from our destination by attacking our homes.”

The guitar melody, which I had forgotten about, ended in a dissonant
twonk.

Everybody looked over at Seymour, who was staring at Normand. “I’m going with you,” he said, and continued playing. “You are going to need me.”

“I’ll
be damned,” said Councilman Bennett. “You’re not going anywhere, son. If this is all true, then the King will have his hands full taking care of you on top of everything else. He doesn’t need the burden.”

Seymour looked up from the guitar, but didn’t stop reeling out the plucky song. “I’m not an idiot, mother, I’m mad. There’s a difference.”

“Oh! Very well then, it seems I’ve been schooled here.”

“You believe me to be a burden?”

“Err....” began Bennett, “...no. No, son, you are not a burden. But if—”

“Then by your logic, I will not hinder the expedition,” said Seymour. “Will I?”

The Councilman inhaled, hesitated, and his face grew dark with reluctant concession. He wrung his hands and stared at the fire. “You are a grown man, See. I will not stand in your way.”

“I’m glad you agree,” said Seymour, and he punctuated the sentiment with a happy flourish of notes.

Normand clasped Bennett’s hands with one of his own. “He will be safe with me, Thaddeus.”

“Many thanks,” said the Councilman, and he remained quiet.

Ozazias Harper had been deep in thought, rubbing his bristly mouth as he watched the conversation. Now he addressed Normand, his thumbs hooked into his suspenders. “Norm, earlier you said there are many other worlds. Perhaps I missed an important point here, but does that mean that there’s one of these...Sileni for each world?”

“Ostensibly, yes.”

“How are you going to kill all those nasty buggers with one little sword?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Walter, speaking up for the first time. The Deon had been sitting on the parapet at the firelight’s edge, the cherry of his cigarette bobbing up and down in the blue night. He got up and stubbed it out, walking over to the gathering.

“From what I can tell,” he said, “The Silen leading the revolt is a big ugly one called ‘The Rhetor’. Now, when I saw him, the Silen that had been helping us referred to the Rhetor as ‘Master’. I’m assuming this means that the Rhetor is their leader.”

Seymour played an ominous note.

“So it goes without saying that these guys are listening to
him,
right? He’s obviously got some kind of pull. I’m thinking if we can get to him and take
him
out, maybe the others will straighten out, or give up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Normand. “The best we have right now. Perhaps—”

He was interrupted by a brilliant flash that lit up the sky like an atomic bomb. It was followed by a crash that seemed to echo faintly from some distant point.

“The hell was that?” said Sawyer.

We all leapt from our seats and ran into the Weatherhead. Inside the central chamber, everyone clustered in confusion, looking for the source of the flash.

Grey pointed toward a doorway and said, “Out there. Follow me.”

We spilled through into another elevated courtyard, and heard screams from below. It was immediately evident what had happened as soon as we got outside. A hulking, rust-streaked metal shape hung over the outskirts of Ostlyn, suspended from the hips of long saurian legs.

It looked as if someone had torn an aircraft carrier to pieces and cobbled together a Tyrannosaur from them. Even from here, I could hear cable-tendons thrumming and clanking. The
Nevada Organon
eagle was stenciled on its flank.

Noreen’s eyes were wide, a deep frown on her face.

“This must be the Rhetor’s doing,” said Normand. “Those things haven’t walked the sands of Ain for decades!”

I broke ahead of the council and was halfway to the parapet when something marred the air in front of me and the wind seemed to solidify. A slender red-shrouded figure materialized from the swirling matter, landing at my feet in a crouch. I backed away in surprise.

It was the cloaked swordswoman that had confronted Sawyer and I in the village beyond the mirror.

The Griever stood up, silhouetted by a stormfront that flickered with heat lightning, and pulled off her banded veil. Ardelia Thirion’s silver-blonde hair rippled in the night-breeze, and she was breathtakingly beautiful, fierce and primordial, like a Norse war-goddess.

My mother glanced over her shoulder at the approaching No-Man. She unsheathed the sword at her hip and flourished it with a
whoop
of steel cutting air
.
Moonlight glittered from her blade.

“Get out of here,” she told us, turning to face the lumbering giant. “I’ll catch up.”

To Be Continued, in

Vol 2: Law of the Wolf

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About the Author.

S. A. Hunt lives in Georgia. Although
The Whirlwind in the Thorn Tree
was his first completed novel, he's been writing and producing art for almost twenty years. Short stories and illustrations can be found at his website.

http://theusualmadman.net/

https://twitter.com/authorsamhunt

http://gplus.to/samuelhunt

Published February 2013 by S. A. Hunt

ISBN: 978-13-014851-0-9

Copyright © S. A. Hunt, 2013

Cover Art: S. A. Hunt

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Fan fiction and fan art is encouraged.

Hunt, S. A. (2013-02-21). The Whirlwind in the Thorn Tree (The Outlaw King)

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