THE BLUE KING Chapters Twelve and Thirteen

EDIT: yeahyeah well now there's chapter titles >:P lol I posted this half asleep ... even forgot to put "the blue king" on the top ... *sigh*

And thus begins my short chapters. This is a phase, but I'm afraid it's a long one, so for a while you're probably going to be getting two chapters at once. *sigh*

Oh, and I wanted to address Ianna's fighting style. She uses a sword. HOWEVER. When you punch someone with a fist of fire, they tend to burn and die and all that. She doesn't -- claw at them or anything. It's just quicker to smack them across the noggin than draw her sword and start hacking.

I think I said "with fire in her fists," right?

-----------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER TWELVE:

They arrived in Tvaar a week later, passing silently through the carefully guarded gates and traversing the well-populated roads in a style so fluid and quick that the crowds parted, allowing them easy passage into the heart of the city—the palace.

Daeun had regained little trust with Ianna and her swarthy crew, but they had come to a sort of unspoken agreement; so long as he helped them, and did nothing else to make her think twice about his loyalty, she would ignore him and his lie. He found this agreement entirely acceptable, though there was a sore place in his heart that said she would have been a great friend, one whom he would have cherished for many years. He could not allow himself to dwell on it, though; his people trusted him to keep them safe, and J’engar or no J’engar, that meant he had to make certain sacrifices.

He led them directly to the palace, but only within hailing distance, for he dare not come any closer. “The king will have me hung if he realizes it is his own lackey who guided J’engar warriors into his capital,” he said, by way of explanation. “If there is trouble, strike for the western wall of the city. There will be horses waiting, and help.”

With that, he vanished, though Ianna knew he possessed little—if at all—magics. Instead, it was a vanishing of skill, and practice, and a smile quirked at the corners of her lips. “There is more to this Lord Genor than meets the eye,” she murmured to Caelun, who nodded in agreement. She did not hesitate for even a moment before making her way up to the first of the royal guards; she blew past him before he had a chance to speak. Thus followed the second guard, and the third, until they came to a pair of tall golden doors guarded by two men, swathed in black, whispering fabric. These two were dangerous; the air around them spoke loudly of this.

She did not give them a second glance, but instead raised her palm flat outward. The doors before her blazed open, cracking loudly against the marble walls. The room within went silent, courtiers and lords and ladies staring at them, horrified, terrified of what a band of J’engar meant. The whispers spread like wildfire—“J’engar.”

An unspoken command flew between Ianna’s men, and they arranged themselves around her, with the court officials directly at her back, prepared to begin their duties. She advanced through the middle of the throne room, striking for the harsh, imposing axel of the entire affair—the throne, a bulky golden thing with monstrous appendages rising out of it. It was most likely intended to be decoratively frightening, but it was only disgusting, the malformed heads and warped bodies forming a crude representation of unforgiving leadership.

Aedaan’s throne was made of stone, simple, and powerful.

“J’engar,” a poisonous voice struck out. From the shadow of the golden throne rose a fat king, shrewd eyes glaring down at them. “To what do we owe this … delightful surprise?”

Ianna felt revulsion growing in her belly, but she refused to be put off. Aedaan had given her this duty, and she would see it to the end. “I have come in High King Aedaan’s stead, to offer peace to the Talon people.”

She could see the twin battles raging across his face—he had to keep up the image of a good king before his underlings, at least appear to accept them, but his nature called for him to strike them down where they stood. It ended exactly as she had surmised it would. He fiddled with a ring, pouted a little, and said presently, “Take them to the garden. We will speak of this there.”

As she followed the courtier out, only one word floated in her mind. Coward.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

Daeun paced the floors nervously, hands clenched in uneasy fists behind his back. Gavin watched him from the counter, wiping his hands on a towel. “You’ll wear a hole in my floor,” Gavin observed dryly, and Daeun paused long enough to send the innkeeper an impatient look before starting up again.

“Blast my reputation,” Daeun muttered. “I should have never let them go in there alone.”

“They’re J’engar,” Gavin pointed out. “They can handle it. Calm down, lad. We’ve transportation ready for them if anything happens, and it’s a straight shot to the wall from the garden anyhow.”

“If he takes them there.”

“He can’t talk to them in public, you know that,” Gavin replied, setting down the towel and leaning forward on his hands. “Stay still, m’lord! You’ll scare away my customers!”

“He’s going to kill them, Gavin,” Daeun snapped, his control fraying at the edges.

“It’ll be his funeral,” Gavin retorted hotly. “Now sit down!”