Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“How much farther?” Dravic demanded, not hiding his ire.
“A day. Perhaps two.”
Dravic’s annoyance grew with his raised voice. “Yesterday you told me two days.”
“The route Merek suggested is longer than I expected.”
“Merek again.”
Ernach shrugged. “He knows this part of Driochmor. I know only the entrance area, not the deeper Driochmor. I must rely on his knowledge to get us there.”
Dravic glanced around them. The forest had grown denser as the day progressed, the path narrowing until his warriors were forced to ride no more than two abreast in places.
“He gave you the safest route?”
“So, he said, though I’m afraid not the fastest.”
“Could we have taken a wrong turn?” Dravic asked, worried that his trust had been misplaced.
Merek had been vocal enough about not being pleased with the monarch. Could he have purposely sent them in the wrong direction?
Ernach shook his head. “I do not think he would be so foolish. Patience, my king, we will reach our destination soon enough.”
“We had better reach the High Council by tomorrow or someone will feel my wrath.”
“As you say, my king,” Ernach said, and urged his horse forward.
Dravic watched him go, his annoyance remaining. He should have had directions given to Seger as well instead of relying on only one man, but Ernach had at least some knowledge of Driochmor whereas no one else with them did. Though there was Fiora, but could he trust a fairy? Ernach had cautioned them on more than one occasion about plants or trees they should avoid. He had proven his worth and he had knowledge of Dravic’s family that he craved.
That did not mean he couldn’t get annoyed at the delay and more so at not having private time with Adira.
They rode for another several hours before the forest began to thin. The path widened and smoke could be seen rising beyond the trees.
Ernach slowed and waited for Dravic.
“A village lies ahead. We can spend the night there and leave at first light.”
“What village?”
“I believe Merek called it Dunvar.”
Dravic looked toward the smoke curling above the distant rooftops. “And how far from the High Council?”
“Close enough that your impatience may finally be satisfied tomorrow.”
“My impatience will be satisfied when I actually stand before the High Council.”
Ernach bobbed his head and rode off.
Something else had begun troubling him as well.
The symbols.
He had first noticed them shortly after Seger had mentioned them to him. He spotted one carved into the trunk of a tree alongside the path. He might have dismissed the single marking if he had not recognized it as one of the Morvane symbols the High Council had sent him a message about and requested Wynn’s return to help understand why the symbols were being seen outside Morvane borders. He had spotted several more since then.
Today they appeared with increasing frequency. Some were carved deeply into trees while others were etched into stones along the path, worn enough to suggest they had been there for years. Yet the ones the High Council had discovered were fresh markings, so what did it mean that these were older?
Dravic had asked Ernach about them earlier that morning, but the man claimed to know nothing beyond the possibility that they marked clan territory.
Whose territory was the question.
Dravic spotted another as they rode, this one cut into the broad trunk of an ancient tree.
Adira shifted suddenly in his arms.
He glanced down and saw her staring at it. Was it familiar to her?
Her gaze lingered on the symbol before she looked at him, giving no indication that she recognized anything.
Dravic studied her for a moment. Something about it had caught her attention, though apparently she knew no more about the marking than he did.
His gaze returned to the path. The symbols had been occasional. Today they seemed to be everywhere. Wynn had mentioned the Morvane Clan lived in the deepest, darkest part of Driochmor. This area did not fit such a description, but what was it his grandda had taught him?
Magic is trickery, never forget that.
Were they being tricked? He would tell Seger to take precautions.
They reached Dunvar as daylight began to fade.
Dravic had grown accustomed to expecting the unexpected from villages in Driochmor, but there appeared to be nothing unusual about this one. Modest cottages lined a broad central path. The scent of roasted meat filled the air. Children hurried out of the cold at their mothers’ calls, and men finishing their day’s work paused to watch the approaching troop.
No strange lights floated above the paths. No vines flourished impossibly beneath snow. Nothing emerged from beneath tree roots to take an immediate liking to Adira.
It looked like any small village he might have passed elsewhere in Scotara. Dravic wasn’t sure whether that reassured him or bothered him.
An older man approached as they entered, introducing himself as Bram, headman of the village. If the unexpected arrival of the king unsettled him, he hid it well.