Sons of Ironstorm - Book 1: Griffon's Rise

Chapter 40: Darkness Falls

"And in a Time of Darkness, when hope fades,

When the Diaspora burdens all Life with travail,

Then will the Strong be lifted up, the Valiant given hope.

For in this fire will the Wielders be chosen,

To stand for the Light and Life, Protectors of All."

- from the Norak Utterance, 3rd Stanza

While the four Sovun'chul leaders awaited the Voice's comments after their deliberations, somewhere in the sprawling Healers' complex near the heart of the city, Ciramax slowly rolled his shoulder as he checked it for range of movement.

<<Any distress, your Highness?>> an attractive blonde Sylvasin woman, sheathed in the blue of the Healers' order, asked from where she stood behind the wiry prince, her gloved hands holding a number of crystals, varying in size, color and shape. They served to focus her life force as she used it to weave torn tissue back together.

Shifting slightly on the top of the elevated bed he was sitting on, Ciramax tried slowly rotating the shoulder forward and then backward once again.

<<No,>> he replied after a slight pause. <<Just a little tenderness.>>

<<That'll pass in time, sire.>> The healer nodded in satisfaction and began replacing her focusing crystals into a custom-made carrying case of velvet and leather. <<The knife traumatized a great deal of muscle and internal tissue. You suffered not only the blood loss from the stab wounds themselves, but a collapsed lung, severe laceration of a number of internal organs and perforation of several arteries as well.>>

<<That bad, hey? Did your little crystals tell you all that?>>

<<In conjunction with my training, yes.>> She walked around the bed to face the curious prince. <<Now, I must admonish you, sire, to take it easy for the next few days. Your body still has a significant task ahead of it in the way of healing. Some pain and tenderness will persist for a time. Exerting yourself will only strain your body's ability to finish the healing process.>>

Ciramax held up forestalling hands as he chuckled softly.

<<You have no worry there, mistress healer,>> he said with a smile. <<I plan only on returning to Aquila and soaking in the hot springs at Vahn Iesil. No more tangles with knife-wielding assassins for a while.>>

<<Good to hear, Prince Ciramax,>> the healer said with a smile. <<Now, I must attend other patients. Good luck to you and Maker speed your way.>>

<<You have my thanks, mistress healer. For your efforts and skill used on behalf of myself and my people,>> Ciramax replied formally, bowing his head slightly.

<<You are very welcome, your Highness,>>  the healer returned with a smile and a bow of her own. Then, with a final nod she was walking out of the treatment room.

That left a thoughtful Ciramax sitting on the bed, shirtless and sore as he stared at the floor, his thoughts slowly rolling over a handful of different things. Those thoughts quickly included assassins, rogue clerics, Shadow armies and a troll-infested Tor Aeinsavir. 'It's going to be difficult getting through there without a little exertion,' he silently mused, focusing for a brief moment on the last item to roll through his mind.