He stroked his beard. “There is a certain appeal to that. Perhaps I should rethink this monogamy thing. Break the tether, so to speak.”
Ashalea threw him a dangerous look.
“Yes, you’re right. Being with the Queen of Moonglade Meadows is far more interesting.”
She huffed and turned to walk inside, pulling on his tunic as she did. “I’m no queen yet. Come on, master of ladies, your wooing and teasing will have to wait. We’ve got work to do.”
Ashalea marched from the ramparts into the Academy, Denavar on her heels. The corridors were empty, and the building was eerily silent. Not even ghosts walked these halls. All mages were either outside tending to the carnage, off to trade for supplies or beginning restorations on the building. Wezlan had given them a day’s grace to mourn the dead, but the orders of a gruff, grumpy, and very tired man had been barked out at dawn this day.
The flames of Farah were noticeably absent from his side, and Ashalea knew Denavar noticed too. She could see her death was a heavy cloak on his shoulders; his posture and expression sagged heavily upon seeing Wezlan, and she had found him wandering aimlessly in the library where he and Farah had spent countless hours poring over the portal puzzles of the Isle of Dread. In her mind’s eye, Ashalea could still see Farah’s body sprawled out on the battlefield, her face planted in the earth, her red hair fanning around her in stark vibrance compared to the muddy bed she lay upon. Ashalea glanced sideways at him now, regarding the furrowed brows and frostiness to his eyes. She gave his hand a quick squeeze before they entered the council chamber.
Wezlan and Shara were deep in conversation, heads bowed over a map of Everosia. From their tones, she gathered they’d been arguing at length. Wezlan’s weathered face was etched with irritation and Shara’s arms were crossed in defiance. Flynn stood to the side in silent vigil. Since his twin’s revival atop the Academy, he’d been her constant shadow.
Ashalea and Denavar exchanged looks. Tensions were high, and discord was the last thing the group needed. She cleared her throat and both of her friends looked up. Wezlan resumed his full height and Shara gave a weak smile. All eyes were glued to Ashalea.
She gazed upon each of her comrades’ faces and a spark of determination jolted through her body. These people were her closest friends and allies. They would die for her, and she them. They were the next Guardians of the Grove. They were Everosia’s hope; the knights to shine shields of light upon the shadows of evil. One battle would not define their future. One battle would not end their quest.
“Against the tides of darkness, we fought with a ferocity and courage the mages never knew they had. We defeated his armies and defended Renlock, and though we could not bind the darkness from opening new portals, we will rise stronger and smarter than before.” Ashalea planted her palms on the table, and the fierceness in her face softened. “My friends, let us not look to blame for past events, nor strike a blow when hearts are weak. Now is the hour that friendship shines brighter than all the wrong in the world. Now we must look to the future, strengthen alliances and work together.”
Wezlan’s lips curved into a smile beneath his beard. “How you have grown since the time we set out. It’s not easy, travelling a road never tread. Finding one’s place in the world is a fickle thing, and destiny waits for no one. Now we must find the remaining Guardians and lead them to their fate or Everosia will be lost.” Wezlan gestured to all in the room and pointed at the map. “Come. A new course must be chosen. We cannot linger too long … every day the darkness recovers his strength.”
They all regarded the withered scroll sprawled lazily across the table, and Shara pinned a finger on three places. “Harrietti said there was a Guardian in the Aquafarian Province, Diodon Mountains and Kingsgareth Mountains. That means we need to find an elf, a Diodonian and a dwarf to complete the circle of all races.”
Ashalea shifted her feet. She still hadn’t confirmed Denavar’s identity as a Guardian with the others. Wezlan was too cunning not to know already, he’d hinted at that, but Shara had remained in the dark. She opened her mouth to speak but Wezlan beat her to it.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you all about that. Our three is down to one.” He grinned and Shara threw him a puzzled glance. “We’ve another Guardian up our sleeve … and he’s standing right here in this room.” Wezlan threw one long, burnt orange sleeve over Denavar’s back and guffawed in amusement at the elf’s bewildered expression.
“You knew?”
“My boy, I’d be a blind fool not to have known, and I am neither of those things, thank the Gods. Do you think I haven’t combed every inch of Renlock’s library? The knowledge you exclaimed so fervently that you read of in ancient texts does not exist within these walls. Only a Guardian would have the Magicka needed to read the dialect back on the Isle of Dread.”
Shara’s mouth dropped open and she folded her arms accusingly. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
Denavar shrugged and raked a hand through his hair. “It was Ashalea’s moment, not mine. And since we returned from the Isle of Dread, we haven’t had much time to breathe, let alone discuss the formalities of Guardianship.”
“You’ve had time to do other things in the darkest hours of night,” Shara smirked, waggling her brows.
Ashalea’s cheeks turned a deep scarlet and a wayward thread on her leggings suddenly caught her attention. She darted a shy look at Wezlan, who seemed to find her awkwardness incredibly amusing.
“That’s no way to talk about a queen,” Denavar reprimanded Shara.
“Call it the perks of being her advisor,” Shara said haughtily, “and speaking of, Ashalea, I would be shirking my duty if I didn’t insist you stop fooling around with unworthy grunts such as he. It’s a bad look for business.”
Denavar countered, “My Queen, as your most loyal confidante, I’ve recently come to learn that your newly-appointed advisor is, in fact, a backstabbing snake. As your grunt, I am a suitable antidote to such poison.”
“Children,” Wezlan interrupted with a stern look, “perhaps you can join the adults for a grown-up discussion now?”
Ashalea cringed. Of all the things to share amongst the group, they had to discuss her love life. She planted a palm on her temple and shook her head.
Shara and Denavar elbowed her playfully and everyone resumed their gaze over the map. Their ventures would lead them east towards the Diodon Mountains and Kingsgareth Mountains, and the journey would be their longest yet.
“We will need fresh supplies for the road,” Ashalea said. “I vote we pass through Shadowvale; stock up, and then head for Hallow’s Pass. It will be quite a ride, but some refreshment and rest with the Onyxonites will do both us and our mounts some good.”
Denavar grunted his agreement. “If we keep a steady pace, we should reach Shadowvale within the week by horse. I am hesitant to use Magicka so soon after the battle, but if you think it’s necessary …”
Wezlan’s weathered face creased like a crumpled page. “No Magicka. We need to restore our strength, and the last spell was taxing on all three of us. Even a wizard needs his rest, and should anything go awry, I would rather have the energy to deal with things accordingly.”