The Exiles

28b. Council Rock (cont'd)

Within the hour, there were far too many men and women who stood on that tabletop, that if one were to move too suddenly, another would be accidentally pushed off the edge. Ursa felt sorry for those poor souls unfortunate enough to arrive on the hill last. She could see them casting nervous glancing at the edge beyond their heels.

The fire spurt to life upon the large pit at the centre as the council leaders — Lords and Ladies — sat around the cold stone seats.

Uncle Rea stood before the blaze as it wicked at logs another had woven into the pit. "It is time, friends. It is time we do something about Rava and the Chymer throne. We have seen through his deceit in the decades since he took the reign. We have lost good men and women. We have lost our children to his cowardly fear that one of them shall defeat him. How much more can we take before we say enough? Enough." He faced the crowd and stared at their faces lit in the firelight. He searched out countless faces all around, seated, standing, hovering – at men and women beneath the shroud of the night. "I, for once, am done. Chymer's throne and its self-appointed king must be sacked. What say? Are you with me?"

Hushed whispers flew around like the lashing of the wind. Ursa could make out nothing, not even with her gift. Far too many voices, far too many thoughts.

"Even if we sack Rava somehow, what are we to do with its throne? Chymer is no ordinary kingdom. Gods and too many oaths, bless it." A Lord stood up suddenly. "The throne itself is bewitched to only obey those of Chymer blood. And there has been no new Chymer blood born since Ovek the Merciful and his family were driven from our realm, to who knows where."

"That's right!" Another stood up too, facing Uncle Rea in equal confusion. "We sack the king, great, but who gets the kingdom?"

Ursa, standing behind conspicuously guarding figures, peered at the ones closest to the fire.

A lady stood up next, right beside her father, who stood cloaked as if a commoner near the stone where she had been seated, next to their uncle, who stood. "Are the rumours true, Lord Anteri? That Chymer soldiers have captured your sister?"

Ursa saw her uncle hang his head in shame. "That is true, Lady Morgans. My sister, beloved Rita, is currently at his mercy. And we all know what that means. Mercy. It is acid on my tongue."

Murmurs rumbled around the campfire. Their mother's name rasped on many a tongue as if they were calling a goddess's name. Ursa felt goose prickles cover her arm, for she could feel the love they had for her mother.

"Does this mean Ovek the Merciful has also returned? What of his children?" Someone asked from the second circle.

Ursa wanted to put her hand up and scream, "Here, we are here!" if not for Amer's steadying hand on her shoulder. Don't. Not yet, sister.

"But that cannot be!" another gasped. "Ovek would not break his oath. He is a man of his word, for why else would he accept such a harsh punishment of a hundred years for his entire family?"

Uncle Rea scoffed. "How dare you question or object to his return when that very voice of yours laid silent as a slug at the time of the sentencing? A few more votes of confidence and they would have been here and the atrocities of Rava's reign would have been but a nightmare, nonexistent. How dare you?"

"It makes little sense." Another Lord stood at the opposite edge of the pit. "Queen Chymer is not a mere warrior who can be captured without her will, for she is sworn to protect her King, Ovek. She would not be easy prey, and nor would your sister surrender as long as her husband's life was in his body."

"That's right. Queen Chymer is bound by oath... so it must be true. Ovek the Merciful is dead. It has to be why they are back in the Cerulean realm sixty decades too early. King Ovek agreed their exile upon.. if he is no more..."