his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Stay in bed, young man, you have been through a lot.”
The king was wearing a blue tunic with gray breeches and draping his shoulders was a blue cape lined in silver. His tunic was embroidered with the silver symbol of Finarth. Dangling from his side was his amazing sword, the blade that was created to replicate his ancestor’s ancient weapon, the one that destroyed Malbeck the Dark One.
Jonas looked at the others as they all looked back at him uncertainly; all except for Prince Nelstrom who averted his eyes. The prince’s eyes were red and swollen, with dark circles under them as if he had not slept. He wore his customary black clothes with silver thread. He did not look well, thought Jonas. Then it struck him; did Torgan, the prince’s son, make it out of the barracks alive?
“I’m glad that you survived, son, but we need to ask you some questions. Will you please tell us your account of what happened,” asked the king, who, Jonas noticed, also looked bone weary.
Jonas looked around at the solemn men and took a deep breath as he began his story. It took several moments to relate the events up to the point where he was knocked out.
“It was your chest that warned you again?” asked the king.
“Yes.”
“That is the third time now?” asked Prince Baylin.
“It is.”
“It seems that these attacks are not just coincidence. They are obviously directed at you, Jonas. You have made powerful enemies,” continued the prince.
“What have I done, sir? Why would I have these enemies?”
“It is not you who have made the enemies, but Shyann the Huntress, and Ulren the High One,” added Manlin. “Shyann has picked you, for whatever reason, to be her warrior, to wield the light of Ulren. When someone is singled out like you, then you will certainly attract Shyann’s enemies. It is possible that all the attacks you have been through have been because they were after you, even the attack on your town. Did you ever wonder why everyone was killed when your town was attacked? If the boargs were just there to feed it seems likely that others would have survived. It also seems likely that maybe Shyann had a hand in shielding you from the boargs. I do not think that a Banthra and hundreds of boargs came to your town to feed. I think they came to kill you, to kill someone who they knew would eventually be a threat to their cause. You are a chosen one; it is obvious to me.”
“And to you alone, priest! He is a lucky commoner who was healed by Shyann, and that is it!” spat Prince Nelstrom. “He is no chosen warrior! He has not even been trained at Annure.”
Jonas was so focused on what Manlin said that he ignored Prince Nelstrom’s outburst. The idea that he brought the destruction on his town and Landon’s caravan was too much to bear. His heart ached with guilt and his mind fled from the thought.
“And yet he can bring forth God Light. Can you explain that, my Prince?” Manlin said sternly.
Prince Nelstrom drew his sword and in a blur had its razor’s edge resting on the priest’s neck. Manlin’s eyes widened with fright and then refocused with determination.
“Don’t ever talk to me like that. I am your prince. Do you understand?”
The king stepped toward his son, sternly looking him in the eye. “Put your sword away, Son. We are all sorry for your loss. Torgan’s death has hurt me too, but it was not the priest’s fault,” the king said.
“No, it wasn’t. It was his fault,” whispered Prince Nelstrom, glaring at Jonas, his hatred so palpable you could almost feel it.
“No, it was a demon that killed your son. A demon that was sent by someone, someone that we will find,” the king said forcefully.
“A demon sent to kill Jonas. If he were not here my son would still be alive,” the angry prince countered.
Prince Nelstrom and the king locked stares for several seconds. Finally the prince removed his sword from the priest’s neck, sheathing it in one smooth motion. The prince glared at Jonas one more time, and what Jonas saw in those eyes chilled him to his bones. It was a look of despair and death. It was as if he were looking at the very thing that had killed his son. Finally, breaking his gaze, the prince stormed out of the room.