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The kíota glade fell silent as Killen’s frustration flowed out.
Koreau walked over to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
‘At one point, you will realise that the journey to peace is paved with violence. Once you become comfortable with that fact and that of death itself—the root terror, the underlying anxiety motivating all of life’s frivolous ambitions—you will be able to embrace your purpose, unrestrained by the illogical quest for immortality and free from guilt.’
‘What of those who want to blade me and wipe me off the surface of Katáne?’
Koreau gave the younger man a long, considerate look. ‘They fear not you, the usurper, but your entire Hawkstone lineage, the power of your ancestral kings and queens who ruled before you. After years of darkness, they’re terrified of the unknown. Of the Kíríga in you—the kσχ?ς, the majesty, power, and wisdom that’s harder to embrace than giving in to evil.’
Killen scoffed, his eyes bleak. ‘I don’t care much for the majesty or the power. Or any of it’s prestige.’
‘That’s because you’re a humble man, Killen Sable,’ the känon said. ‘However, this age is not for humility; it is for hawkstone ferocity. To wipe out the darkness that enshrouds us, we need you to fight with savagery for us.’
When Killen turned his head, and his silver eyes flashed at the känon, Koreau reached a hand to cap his shoulder with passion. ‘Remind Katáne of the power of your lineage. They have forgotten and have relegated it to the past as an old wives tale, an ancient rumour. Some don’t even know it exists. Remind them. Remind us all.’
The trio stayed up late into the night chatting and communing over a light supper and generous glasses of wine.
Koreau revealed himself as an astute thinker with a wicked sense of humour.
Sana’a found herself liking the man.
He shared stories of his travels and adventures, regaling the couple with tales of his encounters with mythical creatures and powerful beings.
It was evident that he’d faced many dangers and overcame them with his wit and fighting skills.
His tales were captivating, and he had a way of making even the most mundane events seem thrilling. However, though he shared his adventures, Sana’a sensed a cloak of secrecy and mystery around him.
Still, as the evening wore on, Sana’a began to warm to him.
Even when his face fell into severe lines as he laid out his plans for them to capture the axillae.
‘I’ll be back when I’ve located Khiron’s koya so we can hunt them down,’ Koreau promised.
‘I thought you knew where they were?’ Killen said.
‘I know the forests they flit in, but the exact location is hard to find. They hide themselves well.’
There was something about his rough exterior and no-nonsense attitude that was endearing, and Sana’a instinctively knew she trusted him.
At one point, she sensed someone’s keen gaze falling on her.
She turned her head just in time to glimpse a shadow shifting away into the gloom.
Only the sarcoline glow of their eyes remained.
She drew a deep breath.
The kaugur was going to be a fokkin’ problem.
She made up her mind to keep an even closer eye on him.
Koreau must have sensed the same, for he wandered up to her later.
‘Shikari, keep an eye on the old man and my even older friend, now will you?’
Sana’a raised an eyebrow. ‘I will, as I’ve already worked out he’s as shady as fokk,’ she murmured.
Koreau chuckled, the corners of his weathered eyes crinkling. ‘You’re right about his shadow self, my dear,’ he agreed. ‘He’s got a past as long as the mountain; who knows what he’s keeping hidden from us.’
