Wyrd: Book One of the Witch War Trilogy - WATTYS 2018 WINNER!

Sky Prologue Part 3: When An Armistice is Disarming

2001, Htrae, Htron Acirema upon the waters of Lake Eire

Two grand armies met upon the sands of the lake, one from the North and one from the South, each decked in the colors of their great houses: one green and one burgundy. The armies mirrored each other, the great mages and casters at the back and scattered in hidden locations throughout, the kinetics making up the front line like ancient heroes or as lieutenants of the sky, and the cavalry spread out like an endless sea in between. The Northern riders flew on the backs of Griffins, the majestic beasts most known for their strength and loyalty, while the Southerner army preferred the speed, cunning and wingspan of the vicious and unpredictable Wyverns.

Each side brought the pomp and circumstance, but they were meeting for peace.

From the depths of the forest of green hauberks came a wave of movement. A man and a woman strode through the amassed armies, two old men following, one tall like a birch tree, one short like a house ficus, creating a wake behind them as they made their way to a winding staircase leading up to a platform built in the side of a cliff-wall above the lake.

The King wore a golden circlet of leaves upon his head of long brown hair, and his eyes matched his velvet green cloak as if they'd been cut from the same cloth. He was young for one with such a presence, a muscled and strong war-time leader, and as he waited he turned to his army and raised a hand in salute, a kind smile crinkling his face, while his other hand never left the palm of his beloved. She wore a hooded cape and a matching emerald dress, and though her countenance was hard to make out, her eyes were as blue as the choppy water below. The King, for there was no mistaking him, dropped a reassuring kiss upon his Queen's brow and motioned for the royal magicians--one thin tall and towering over the other who was small and stout and most certainly a little person--to take his place beside her, as he moved to the middle of the stone stage on this beautiful sunny day.

And as he did so, two large beasts rose from the edge of the crimson tide - two wyverns, almost the size of dragons, one jet black and the other with markings that appeared as if blood had been spilled upon her gray scaly hide. As they approached, it was apparent they were carrying dignitaries of the Southern army, Her Opulence and the Grand Physician. The wyverns squawked as they landed tentatively on the small bit of protruding stone, the space becoming suddenly cramped and crowded. The King strode to the side of one beast, offering a steady hand to Her Opulence to help her dismount. She scowled at his flagrant show of bravery, but accepted the hand as she slid down the fat belly to her mount's knee and descended.

"Well met, your Opulence."

She said nothing, just arranged her crimson dress around herself and stood tall, looking him in the eye, still cutting a statuesque figure well into her sixties.

"We appreciate The Tainted you sent us as a show of cooperation. Thank you. As we agreed, we are happy to accept all of the blight refugees going forward," he continued.

"Idiot."

Irritation flitted across the king's face, but he stifled any reaction.

"Our research shows they aren't..."

"The cause of the blight. Yes, I'm aware of what your kingdom believes. I have a different..." she paused, considering "set of ideologies."

The king nodded, worried momentarily that she might change her mind, so he continued on quickly. "Either way, we need to fight the blight together. Gather all our information. We don't need a war on multiple fronts," his hands gestured passionately.

"Of course," Her Opulence replied, succinctly. "I have been fighting the blight all along." She turned to a table at the centre of the platform. "So, shall we then?" She moved towards the written peace treaty, the terms for their armistice, her train sweeping behind her as the King followed closely behind.